Bikini
by Asso
Summary: Something which remained kept in suspense after "Shore Leave". Something about a certain tiny bikini that T'Pol should have worn in her first "swimming lesson".
1. Chapter 1

**Bikini**

* * *

_My friends, do you remember "Shore Leave" '? I hope so._

_Well, in that story something remained - how to say? - kept in suspense. Let me explain. Apparently our dear T'Pol had decided to enjoy the warm waters of Florida, namely to learn to swim in them with the help of her Trip (Who knows why? Mah!). But we know nothing about this "Swimming Lesson"; we left our two lovebirds - how to say? - a tad "busy" in the first night of their Shore Leave._

_Okay. So, what do you think? Would you like to know more about this "Swimming Lesson"? And maybe about a certain tiny bikini that T'Pol was supposed to wear? Yes? Well, in this case here's to you (thanks also to the useful help of my friend __**Linda, **__who has very kindly agreed to give me a well-disposed hand to smooth out the roughness of my English and of my imagination)…_

**Bikini**

**That's to say: **_**The swimming lesson.**_

**Part One**

_(Oh, just a little friendly warning. Indispensable, well, no, not that, but, honestly, it would be extremely helpful that you were aware of "Shore Leave", in order to well read this story and understand many details you will find. You know, there are a lot of references to "Shore Leave" here.)_

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"It's time."

And in saying this, she stood up.

Little fountains of iridescent and glittering sand slipped slight and soft down from her.

Trip looked up at her, from his recumbent posture on the beach.

Her shoulders and arms, showing off from the snazzy pareo enwrapping her body down to her feet, stood out dark against the sky so clear and limpid as to appear cobalt blue.

The sound of the surf could be heard, soft and rhythmic, in the background, among the chatter of the bathers and of those who were blissfully enjoying the warm sun.

She lowered her head toward him and took off the large sunglasses that hid almost wholly her visage.

Her large dark eyes appeared, and they stared at him intentionally from under the swimming cap that covered her hair and ears.

With a single, fluid motion she unhooked the ends holding up the sarong and at the same time let slid to the ground the motley beach-clothing, that went to settle softly on the sand, followed almost simultaneously by the glasses, nonchalantly dropping from her hand.

Trip did not notice it, - and how could he? - but if he had been able to pay attention to what was around him, as he had been able to do until just a moment before, right before T'Pol had dropped the pareo that covered her, he would realize that every chatter had ceased, as if by magic, that only the gentle sound of the surf was left to fill the bated silence suddenly fallen around them.

But he could not. Not with that T'Pol, _that T'Pol… looking in that way_, standing a hair's breadth away from him; her eyes, sly and laughing, pointing downwards to his dumbfounded face.

He had not yet seen her_… _dressed... uh, ah, yes... dr… dressed… that way. When they had put themselves along the short road from their hotel towards the facing beach, she already wore sarong, cap and goggles. Trip had already found her combined like that, when he had come out of the shower.

"Please shut your mouth and wear your beach suit. It is the day of my swimming lesson and I think we have sufficiently recovered from… the fatigue of the night. I would like to enjoy, as you say, the delight of the water, with your help, without further delay."

So she had spoken.

Lapidary words, uttered in her usual trenchant and assertive tone, but her voice had resounded sweetly cheerful, in some way. Silvery, he could have said. And unequivocally affectionate.

Trip no longer deceived himself about her. He could read her in every detail, in every innermost fold, even without the help of the Bond.

But that did not mean she was not able to amaze him.

How then, in the morning, when she had surprised him so, in that way, by appearing to him with that swaddling sarong that wrapped her small and yet busty body and together brought out her soft and attractive form, showing without half-measures how she was shapely and gorgeous.

And how now.

With that tiny bikini.

That she had worn for him, as she had done before with the sarong; to be enjoyed by him.

And… that did not hide anything except what was strictly necessary.

While snapping to sit up, Trip looked upon her with startled amazement. He had teased her so many times. Had tried in every way to convince her.

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"_A bikini?"_

"_Yes, darlin', a bikini."_

"_I do not think it is something suitable for a Vulcan female."_

"_But it is suitable for the Vulcan female of a Human male."_

"_As illogical as every Human male, I'd say."_

"_That I am devoid of logic, I know. You made me notice it so many times. But in this case, why?_

"_What logic has being able to taste, to say it how you would, only part of what you can taste in its entirety?"_

"_The taste to imagine how is the part that you can not taste."_

"_Which you have already so much tasted, though, and whose taste, therefore, has no need to be imagined by you, since you already know very well the taste it has." _

"_And which, precisely because already so much tasted by me and because undisposable to be tasted, inasmuch concealed, would let me anticipate the delicious taste of being able to taste again its delightful taste." _

"_And what about the taste of the others?"_

"_The taste of the others?"_

"_The taste of the other Human males who could taste the sight of me wearing a bikini on the beach. They, too, would be able to imagine what you would like to have a foretaste of."_

"_But that they cannot taste for real." _

"_You're very sure of yourself, apparently."_

"_Should I not be?"_

"_You... have to. But still talking like you, they would be able to taste with their eyes much more than what is legitimate for them to taste." _

"_Dying of envy for the one who can really taste it."_

"_And you would be pleased to taste their envy?"_

"_I would be pleased to taste the vision of you wearing a bikini, maybe not too tiny, if too skimpy clothing is not exactly your taste. But if you do not even have enough courage to try to taste which taste you might taste by wearing a not particularly revealing bikini..." _

"_Is it a challenge?"_

"_But when have I never challenged you? This would really be… in bad taste. _

"_Often, if not always, and, after all, you know, judging from your taste for certain Hawaiian shirts, not exactly tasteful, we cannot frankly say that good taste is your forte. _

"_Oh, damn it! Still with these damn Hawaiian shirts! They are colourful, just as my personality, not distasteful, okay? And am I wrong or you've been just the one who affirmed this? Or should I assume that Vulcans have the bad taste to lie?"_

_"__V__ulcans are anything but attributable of having bad taste, nor regarding the lie, nor regarding anything else. They appreciate beauty, in all its aspects, even in the aspect of the beauty of truth and, just because of that, they are endowed with extremely good taste."_

"_Very well. So I can take for certain that your taste for me is not due to some constitutional Vulcan bad taste. Good for me. A woman of so good taste, like you, cannot harbour a taste for a man of bad taste, which means I am not..."_

"_We cannot say that modesty is your forte, just like good taste. Anyway, we are discussing your taste, not mine, and…"_

"_Sure. But I do not understand how you, who are so in good taste, may have a taste for a man with such bad taste, unless I'm not just so in bad taste."_

"… _and, if your 'usual' courtesy lets me finish what I was saying, it is in bad taste make use of other people's statements in order..."_

"_To gain the winning point of the game?"_

"_If I well understand what you mean with your taste for slang expressions, yes, it's in extremely bad taste."_

"_Oh, but, evidently, in the end, I'm really a man of bad taste. Did not you just say this, my sweet honey? You said that good taste is far from my forte. And you are stressing with force this concept."_

"_Just as you are giving the best of yourself to prove that I'm anything but far wrong." _

"_Yeah, yeah. Sure, you're right. Of course it's weird, though. If that's the case, how do you explain my taste for Vulcan females, or, rather, for one certain Vulcan female? One very peculiar Vulcan female? Could this be enough to say that, if you look closely, I can't at all be defined a man of bad taste?"_

"_Well, as for that, you're…"_

_"Definitely of good taste, eh, Hon? Oh sure, sure, as for that, I am, apparently. Right, darlin'? I'm persuaded. Just as I am more than persuaded not to show off the slightest hint of bad taste by affirming that you have always savoured tastefully the flavourful taste to take up all the challenges with which you say that I have always challenged you."_

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Yeah. She had always taken up his challenges. Just like now. And beyond all expectations.

Not too tiny? To hell, if it wasn't tiny! It was microscopic!

Trip's eyes followed with mute astonishment the magnificent shapely and together slender curves of T'Pol's body, flourishing, bursting out and yet sweetly soft, from the petite barrier of her awfully scanty swimsuit. His eyes caressed them, drank them, inhaled them.

God, how she was beautiful!

Oh he knew – _he had tasted, and savoured_ – those curves, their gorgeous form and substance, in a way that no one else had been able or could ever be able to do, that no one else might even imagine, since they had been revealed to him the first time, in that magical night when she had wanted him to know, and taste, and savour them. But they - like her soul, and her mind, and her capacity to go along paths new and unknown to her - would never finish amazing him in their supple and sumptuous beauty.

And now, just now, just in that moment, in which the three small triangles of cloth, which constituted her so-called bikini, revealed them, in a sense, even more, by naughtily concealing from view the much - _the little_ - that could show her beauty in all its splendour… now, just for this reason, they appeared even more wondrous, more dazzling in their striking, statuesque perfection.

He had not been mistaken, no. The game of "Look what you can see and imagine what you can not see" that women knew all along how to use so well against men to inflate their desire, to make them their, worked with T'Pol much more than with Human women, maybe just because of who she was, or perhaps it was so for him because he knew who she was.

And as much as he already well knew to be totally hers, he felt being hers even more, if that could ever be possible. He felt languorously and sensually and willingly and joyously ensnared in her no way out trap of seduction.

But ... - Trip became suddenly aware of the silence that had fallen around them; it seemed to him that even the sound of the surf had grown fainter - … but, irrespective of the cognizance that only he had of who T'Pol was in reality, irrespective of the fact that the seduction game of T'Pol was aimed at him and him alone, that it was played for him, it, the game, with all evidence, appeared to work perfectly… not only for him.

Trip's gaze darted around.

Open mouths and wide open eyes: scowling eyes of women, goggled eyes of men.

And he felt awfully uncomfortable.

And insanely and ridiculously jealous.

His eyes - frowning, almost angry - returned to T'Pol, on her splendid and exhibited form. "Was there not a different bikini?"

"Is it still a little too big?"

"No! Hell, no! It is ... is too small! It... it is non-existent!"

"Not good?"

"No!"

"No? Strange. I was convinced that you wanted it to be as small as possible. I thought: the smaller the bikini, the greater the envy the other men would feel for you. Was I wrong?"

"Yes! Namely, no!"

"Yes or not?"

"I mean ... there are limits! The other men ... the other men are eating you with their eyes!"

"And is it not what you wanted?"

"Yes! Namely, no!"

"Yes or not?

"Yes! No! Yes! No! No no no! I ... I..."

"Jealous, Ashayam?"

"I ... I ... Yes!"

"Very well. So you can understand how I felt, what you made me feel, with your games with Corporal Cole."

"So the Vulcans not only can be jealous, but also vindictive?"

"Have not you always said that I am a very peculiar Vulcan?"

"Yes, but ... but…"

T'Pol's lips curled imperceptibly into what could only be a smile, a smile very, very sweet, and subtly teasing, Trip could swear, but still with the most great mildness. "I _**am**_ a very peculiar Vulcan, T'hai'la. I am a Vulcan woman whose heart beats madly for a Human man. For you."

Trip gasped. Of wonder? Of joy? He did not know, not even asked himself. He just gasped, without words, his eyes wide open, enraptured, astonished.

And with his heart at the most furious gallop.

T'Pol's lips resumed their usual neutral position. But her eyes were smiling. Oh, how they smiled! And how softly! "Maybe if you will decide to show clearly everyone your unquestionable right of ownership of what belongs to you, a little of that envy from others that you were expecting, it could really arise."

It has been a matter of a blink. Trip jumped up, grabbed T'Pol, hugged her, held her close, kissed her.

She clung to him and her fleshy mouth responded passionately to his kiss.

Because there, on Earth, on that beach, hidden from everyone for who she was, she - a very peculiar Vulcan - felt free to be free? To act as, elsewhere and recognizable for who she was, she could never do or would feel to do? Perhaps for the very fact of being there, on that golden beach immersed in the sun and in the sea breeze, with the sweet sound of the waves tickling her sensitive Vulcan ears? Of finding herself plunged into that atmosphere, so different from everything she knew, and so calm, so cool, so favourable to push everyone, even her, especially her - the very peculiar Vulcan female she was - towards unknown feelings and desires of behavioural informality, towards unvulcan-like feelings and desires of heady and unashamed liberty?

Maybe. Yeah. Maybe also for all these reasons. But in her soft and warm body joyfully abandoned to his embrace, in her soft curves sweetly offered to his arms, in her soft lips ardently returning his kiss, in the Bond softly reverberating with delight and soulfulness and joy and happiness, Trip felt with crystal evidence and clarity that there was something else, a "something else" very great, very important, extraordinarily important.

It was… _her heart that beat madly for him_, as she had said, Vulcanly hardly willing to say clearly and loudly that name, that Human word - Love.

But it was this.

It was her love for him.

But it did not take any sort of Bond, no particular telepathic ability, any kind of strange mental connection on his part to feel also something else that had nothing to do with T'Pol, except only indirectly.

There are things that Humans perceive, all along, even if they have no special capacity of mental communication. It happens that they can feel the feelings of others, when these feelings are addressed to them and are particularly intense. And so… envy, the envy that, palpable, permeated the air; the envy, really deep and intense, even if not negative, not disruptive, but merely made of the inevitable jealousy for the damn lucky man that he evidently was; the envy that arose in those who were watching them, in the boys around them, at seeing wide-eyed the two of them while they hugged and kissed each other with such ardour... that feeling, well, that feeling, he has been able to sense it fully and strongly, telepathy or not.

And for many reasons, even if not at all rational, he was sure that the other men could feel, just as fully and strongly, his joy, his happiness. And his pride.

The kiss lasted a long time, a very long time. It took the need to breathe to stop it. But Trip did not broke off the hug when he was forced to remove his lips from those of T'Pol, neither she, panting as him, made the slightest move to shirk from his arms.

The bright and glittering eyes of T'Pol stared at his from below upwards. "I ..." - She paused, panting a little. – "... I have to admit it."

"Wh ..." - A moment to catch his breath, he too. – "... what, Hon?"

"You were not at all wrong, Ashayam.

"No? About what?"

"After all it's not too bad, the others' envy, in some cases."

"Meaning what?"

T'Pol budged slightly from him, still remaining in the circle of his arms. She slid her hands on his powerful chest with gentleness and possessiveness and her eyes along his athletic figure, fully revealed if not for the part hidden by his swimsuit. Her eyes lingered on and caressed his slender and yet brawny body, ran all along it, from his square shoulders to his thighs that seemed carved in marble, and then they went up and came to rest on his golden hair that shone in the sun, and then on his face, tanned and… - T'Pol, sighed with pure contentment, as Humans do, but she had lot of good reasons, there was nothing at all to be ashamed of; she thought this with absolute conviction - … and awfully handsome and attractive.

Even with that odd and unconvincing moustache which strived to hide it a little. T'Pol suspected that there was a tinge of narcissism in wanting to put on that labial ornament, out of fashion and… annoyingly tickling, on the part of Trip.

Finally, her eyes came back to his, dived into their blue. The sparkle into hers glowed brighter, more and more. "There are not only men here, T'hai'la. There are also women. And they have seen."

Trip plunged his eyes into those of T'Pol. How they sparkled! Of what? Of love? Sure! Oh sure! Of passion? Oh sure, sure sure! Of joy? Of happiness? Oh sure sure sure sure sure! But maybe ... perhaps even of pride? Because ... because she had perceived...

"And I perceived their envy - not nasty, this not - when you have embraced and kissed me. It was so strong that there was no need of any mind-meld to perceive it. I believe that even a Human woman would have sensed it. And..." - T'Pol clung firmly to him, burying her face in his chest. Her voice sounded muffled and dreamy and incredibly soft, down, from his chest. – "And I can understand them, Ashayam. Me too I would be terribly envious if I were in their place instead of being here in your arms. I would be at least quite as envious more than how I feel glad, held tight in them. And proud."

Trip did not answer. He said nothing. He did not speak. And how the hell would he be able to do it? And then, what was the need? It was sufficient to hold her so, in his arms. It was sufficient her warmth. It was enough, well more than enough, the warmth of their love.

Eventually Trip roused himself. Unwillingly and with difficulty he broke the embrace and stepped back away a little from T'Pol. He smiled, trying to look normal. He tried to turn his bamboozled smile into his usual flippant and teasing smile. Without great results, though.

He tried to make it up by using his accustomed irony, though, in truth, his voice didn't ring completely firm. "Well, better stop, now, Honey. There are not only men and women on this beach, Darlin', there are also children. And as much as Humans tend to be more permissive and less restrained than Vulcans, and as much as they love to see people in love, better not to overdo it. You know, it wouldn't look at all a fine figure for two Starfleet Officers being arrested for indecent exposure."

At Trip's words, T'Pol straightened, trying to take back her customary stoic Vulcan face and her typical composure. Not very easy, to be honest, dressed up - just to be euphemistic - like that. Anyway she put all her good will there, even if, frankly, she had to admit to herself that she didn't fully manage to do it, and, what was worse and extremely illogical, was that she did not care that much.

Trip resolved the situation in his own way. He smiled gently at her and softly spoke. "Do we want to go?"

T'Pol nodded. "Let's go."

Trip took her hand and together they made for the sea shore, walking side by side on the sand, holding hands.

He, in his garish swimsuit, and she, in her micro bikini.

Behind them slowly the chatter started again.

And it would be quite nonsensical to wonder what the topic of conversation was.

* * *

"Here?"

"No, not here."

"Why not?"

"Too many people, Honey. Too many prying eyes. You would feel too uncomfortable."

"Vulcans never feel uncomfortable."

"Here we go again? Is it possible that every time you do not know how to fight a feeling that you don't like, you have to take refuge in this nonsense of the superior control ability of the Vulcans?"

"Vulcans are…"

"Besides, you should know it by now, especially considering that you were the one who taught it to me, namely that at this point it is difficult, if not impossible, for us to hide from each other what we feel, which means that now I know you just as well as you know me, which in the end means that now I know you too well to fall into the trap of your Vulcan assertiveness. So, please stop playing this game with me. You're uncomfortable. And here, in this crowded place, you'd still be the more. And I do not want you to be uncomfortable."

T'Pol felt herself hit where it hurts. She did not like being caught out. She left Trip's hand, and stepped to the side, turning afterward towards him with her eyebrow raised in the Vulcan expression, typical of her, by now well-known by Trip, the expression which meant: _Mind you what you say, foolish Human._

But Trip didn't let himself be dismantled. Well, certainly the "particular situation of apparel" in which T'Pol was… _dressed_… at this moment was of not little importance in helping Trip not to let him be disassembled. You know, it is not easy to play with credibility the role of _I am T'Pol of Vulcan, I know everything, and my word is the verb_, just as T'Pol would have wanted to do at that time, when you wear one skimpy bikini. In addition, certainly it did not play in her favour that, unconsciously, she had placed her fists on her hips, assuming, without thinking, one of the usual poses of Trip and emphasizing thus the soft and appealing roundness of those hips.

In all honesty, despite the fact that Trip was fully aware that the moment that he and T'Pol were facing was anything but far from being not serious, even if not serious – frankly - it could appear, and that he should have tried to talk very seriously to T'Pol, but not too much, so as not to make her withdraw into her shell, as often happened when she was confronted with a reality that she did not like, a reality that, precisely, was making her feel uncomfortable ... well, despite all this, it was necessary for him to make a not little effort not to burst out laughing heartily.

Trip desperately tried to distract the focus of his mind from the so damn scantily-dressed vision that T'Pol was offering of herself to him.

He succeeded. Yes, it's really hard to believe, but he was able to do it. Evidently T'Pol's influence on him was not a trivial matter.

No, surely he could not burst out laughing. It would have really been big trouble! And even less could he be rid of the problem they were dealing with at that time as if it were a matter of no importance. I was not so, he felt and knew it, because ... well, because the fact was that now he was in T'Pol' heart, he knew what that expression from her meant for real. T'Pol was telling him: _You are telling the truth, but you mustn't tell me_. Which, if addressed to him, in the end meant: _Please, help me_.

He smiled at her with sassy sweetness. "Do not try to deny the evidence with me, please, sweetheart. See, I know, I know perfectly."

T'Pol lifted still further her eyebrow. "You know ... what?"

Trip sighed softly. *_Come on! Go ahead. You have to say it, man_. _Speak with your heart, do not repeat the error again you've done so many times in the past, not to disclose your feelings. Do not be afraid to do so._*

"Honey, it gives me an immense pleasure that you want to learn to swim so as to share with me one of my greatest passions. But - I already told you this - there is not the minimal need to do it, there is not the minimal need for you to face what you feel very uncomfortable to cope with, as it's well clear to me. My greatest passion is you, and this passion does not need to be strengthened, it is stronger than any other. You are everything to me, and your swimming with me won't help to increase by a whit this passion. You can not increase what has no limits."

T'Pol remained speechless, and it was not the first time that this happened to her with Trip. And... and certainly would not be the last.

She felt overwhelmed by his love and did not know what to do.

Or rather...

She lowered her eyebrow, no longer trying to hide on her visage what she was feeling inside. She had already done it too many times with Trip, and she had always paid dearly. And even more so, Trip had been the one who had had to pay very dearly. Just Trip, her T'hai'la, who truly did not deserve it.

She grabbed his hand, while turning to the ocean, right there, right in front of her.

How large it was! And how _threatening_ _it appeared to her!_

She squeezed tightly Trip's hand, avoiding looking at him so that he would not be able to patently see the uncertainty and the fear that she knew spread across her face. But she did not try much to hide the slight tremor of her voice. "I want to learn to swim, Trip. And I want you to teach it me. I want to do that because... it is not logical that I do not know how to do it. But I do not want to say it is not logical because it is illogical not knowing how to do it. What's illogical is that I can be unable to share with you everything. I _**must**_ share with you everything and, therefore, this too."

"Hon! Damn it! I said…"

"Be quiet, Ashayam. Please."

T'Pol turned to his T'hai'la and looked at him trying to convey to him with her eyes all the Ashaya – all the love - she felt for him.

The Vulcans, at least at T'Pol's time and before they met Humans, were not able to express such strong emotions and feelings; they were no longer able to do it, after having spent their lives trying to suppress them, unnecessarily. They thought that they could get out of it. The crappy interpretation of Surak's doctrine had reduced them to that state. They had not yet found the balance they needed between logic and emotions that Humans would give to them, just as they would have done with Humans.

But T'Pol was a very, very special Vulcan. Inside her it was fervent the great past, the grandeur of the ancient Vulcans and the foretaste of their bright future, the future that would have been born thanks to her, just thanks to her love for Trip, to her union with him, to the union that she had accepted and wanted between her, a Vulcan, and him, a Human, even if she couldn't absolutely be aware of what would have sprung from all this, even if only very long afterward her people would have acknowledged to have a such great debit to her.

And, over and beyond and beside all this, that she could not know, it mustn't be forgotten that she – she, the very special Vulcan she was - had read and internalized, what her great-great-grandmother T'Mir had left written to her, in that letter.

_And, most of all, she was in love with Trip._

And, perhaps, this Bond, this Bond that – now she was well conscious of that - was nothing if not true love - _true Ashaya_ - would help her.

And so it was.

And, under the intensity of that look from her, so full of immensurable love, Trip ... well yes! Incredible, but true ... was no longer been able to speak.

Potency of love!

T'Pol grabbed with her other hand also Trip's other hand. "My K'diwa, did you like hugging and kissing me, before, on the beach?"

"But what are you asking me, T'Pol? Of course I liked it! Immensely!"

"I too liked it, my K'diwa."

"Oh, well, I hope so! I mean ... glad to hear it!"

"I think ... I believe that being hugged and kissed by you, in the water and under the water, surrounded, you and me, as one thing only, by that feeling of lightness and freedom that you've told me many times that one can experience in the water. ... I believe ... I think it would be a great gift... a great gift of love for me on your part if you would like to teach me how to be able to allow you to make me experience all this."

Trip was not even able to realize the verbal contortionism of T'Pol, which betrayed her embarrassment very well. In truth, he was not able to understand anything except that...

_She had said it! She had pronounced that word! She had said "love"!_

_For the second time - for the second time! - in this Shore Leave, T'Pol had uttered that word. The night before, in their first night of love of their Shore Leave. And now on this sunny beach, in the gentle sea breeze that caressed them._

_Without talking of all the rest!_

_Decidedly... decidedly splendid being in Shore Leave!_

Then, suddenly, in a flash, Trip internalized all T'Pol had said. Everything!

And if, just before, just after her words, he had no longer been able to understand anything, now he was even less.

A gift... of love... for her... on his part! She wanted... she wanted...

The slight hand of T'Pol, gently caressing his cheek, brought him back to the world, on the sundrenched beach where he and she were.

"Trip ..."

The music of her voice cradled him.

"Do you want to make this gift to me, Ashayam?"

* * *

"Here?"

"Yes, Hon, here yes."

T'Pol looked around. She peered over the place. Yes, indeed, Trip was right. It was really a good place.

They had walked slowly along the foreshore, holding hands, looking for the right spot

It had been... nice.

Walking that way, on a beach, right where the quiet waves of the sea come to lick your feet, submerging them, from time to time, and bringing away the sand from under them by retreating back, and then back to wrapping them... this was certainly something that no Vulcan had ever experienced.

The mobile and changeable surf was gentle and not too cold, or, rather, it was certainly cold for a Vulcan like her, but not too much, not too much. Indeed, yes, indeed one could say it was… refreshing.

It had been not unpleasant the strange feeling that had given her the walking on the soft and yielding shoreline. In truth, it had been a little difficult to maintain a decently normal walking upon it, but ... well yes… but it had been an enjoyable sensation.

And then, there had been - there was - Trip to hold her hand, to support her, when it had looked like she was about to loose her balance. And this ... well, this had been - this was – more than a pleasurable sensation, this was absolutely delightful. In fact ... ahem, in fact ... maybe ... well, yes ... perhaps she had seemed like losing her balance a few too many times, to be honest, maybe without that it had really been about to happen to her. But it had been - it was - so nice to feel the hands and arms of Trip to support her, to hold her tightly.

No. It was not at all unpleasant to walk barefoot on the foreshore.

Along with Trip.

Close to him.

Holding his hand.

"So, Hon? What do you think?"

T'Pol observed well the site, without answering. It was a recess of the great and long beach, along whose shore they had walked.

They had strayed far from the area of the hotels and of the inhabited area and had left behind the raucous crowd of bathers and now they were there, in what appeared to be a small and secluded beach. It was protected on one side by rocks which formed its end. Beyond there, they could no longer go. And there, in the tranquil silence broken only by the peaceful murmur of the calm surf, the sea, the ocean, even great, even in the great distance in which it appeared to get lost, up to the indistinct line that separated it from the sky, up to the horizon, seemed more intimate, quieter.

No longer threatening.

Trip's voice, low and quiet, rose behind her. "It looks like an oil, does it not, my love?"

T'Pol turned a moment to look at Trip. He was smiling to her. So sweetly. He knew what he was doing, he knew very well. He was reassuring her. Without telling her clearly. Without showing it clearly. Only with the tone of his voice, his attitude, with phrases and words that said it all without saying anything.

Surak! How she loved him!

T'Pol turned back toward the ocean, the reassuring presence of Trip well perceptible behind her.

It was true. The surface of the water was smooth and practically motionless, there, except for the sweet and gentle surf. It seemed… an oil.

She heard Trip move behind her. She turned her eyes and saw him go past her and move towards the sea with determination.

A moment, and he was in the water. He went forward through it, proceeding forcefully, but confidently, as if he knew well how to do - which was entirely true - until the water level was a few inches above his knees. Then turned. "See, Hon? It is low, the seabed slopes gently and is flat, smooth and downy, free of stones. There is no hidden danger, and the water is absolutely quiet."

He smiled gently. "As in a pool, better than in pool."

The smile became sly and sassy. His arms made a sweeping gesture around. "Certainly much nicer than in a pool, isn't it, sweetheart?"

His arms went back down. He bent down a little and his hands plunged into the water and made it whirl cheerfully. Then they re-emerged and beat the surface and then dived again and rose up suddenly, lively, raising iridescent splashes that flooded his body and his face. His eyes were laughing. "Do you understand now why I insisted that, if you really wanted me to teach you to swim, it was much better to do it here, in the sea, rather than in the pool?"

He straightened up, while his arms got up, both of them, towards T'Pol. They called her. Inviting and cosy. As a promise of embrace. "Come on, babe! Off you go! Come here. We are alone. And the water is warm."

T'Pol straightened in her turn. Her expression became serious and determined, almost scowling. She adjusted well her swimming cap. Took a deep breath. Breathed long, as if she were preparing to meditate.

Okay. The moment had really come.

Resolute and frowning, lips clenched, nose curled, she headed for the sea.

Towards Trip.

She did not stop when reached the water, did not even slow down. Penetrated it as an express train, raising splashes all around.

It was true, it was warm. A lot. Did not give any cold feeling.

A step. Fast. Another. And another. Less fast, in that medium so strange, that offered resistance, hindering her walking, and yet was yielding, was allowing her path.

Another yet, even slower. Another. There! She was in the arms of Trip.

They held her tightly, in the promised embrace, and she clung to him, to his wet body.

She lifted her face to look at him.

He gave her no time. He kissed her.

And she tasted the salt of the sea on his lips, as she responded to his kiss.

While the sea played jocosely around her thighs.

* * *

"Now ... magic!"

T'Pol wasn't able to hear well, to understand, what Trip was saying to her, even with all the acute hearing she had. Something as "Magic", it seemed to her, but she wasn't sure. Certainly it was something not easy to do, as she was fluctuating that way, belly up, all surrounded by the water, which practically submerged her almost completely, letting it only emerge over her face and her bosom together with the top of her abdomen and of her pelvis, while her arms and her legs were spread apart and floated limply on the surface of the sea. Her eyes were closed, how Trip had asked her, and she had succeeded in completely abandoning herself, just as Trip had told her to do, relying with complete confidence upon his arms, that held her up from beneath, from underwater.

When they had hugged and kissed each other, just when T'Pol had reached Trip in the water, he, still kissing and holding her tight to him, had begun to walk backwards, slowly, backwards proceeding into the sea little by little together with her, who, with eyes closed, tight in his arms, her mouth on his, had let herself be conducted that way, until the water had come up to her breast.

At that moment Trip had stopped and had detached his lips from hers. He had stared at her eyes, now open on his. Had smiled to her. Gently. Had spoken to her. Softly. "Here we are, my darling. Now, trust me."

He had interrupted the embrace and gone a step back, looking at her again with the sweetest of smiles, leaving her alone, standing, with her feet resting on the seabed.

She had had trusted him and his love. She had no fear, with him. With him, she could even have no fear to admit that she had fear. She could do anything, with him. Even stay there, motionless, standing, unsteady and unsecure, in the middle of all that water, like no Vulcan who was not her - her, who had Trip – could or would ever do, unless forced to do so and, in this case, desperately trying not to betray all his insecurity and his discomfort, although… shitting his trousers with fear, how Trip would have said, with his irreverent sarcasm and... rather colourful.

And, honestly, T'Pol could not say he wouldn't have been correct. It was really necessary all the love she felt for him, to do what she had done, namely being standing without his reassuring support, alone, surrounded by _all that water_, and, even more so what she was doing now, namely staying so, floating, on _all that water_, substantially engulfed by _all that water_.

But she loved her T'hai'la, as well as he loved her. So, she had loved to do what she had done, and - and this was the true expression of the love that bound them - she liked very much what she was doing, now. And the way with which he was making her do it, the way with which he had induced her to do so.

After having left her, standing there, alone, in the middle of the water, he had made some steps around her, while she was following him with her eyes, turning her face toward him and the water was moving gently due to his motions. He had stopped at her side, had looked archly at her and then had moved again, approaching her up to skim her. He had stopped again. Had nodded with determination. Had looked like if he were attempting to position himself on his legs well and carefully. "Quiet, my love," had said. Had inspired deeply. And, curling up on himself, had disappeared under water.

She had seen him go down with a little apprehension, then… she had felt his arms behind her, against her thighs and against her back, and, in the space of a second, she had felt herself be raised. With ease.

She had found herself being lifted on his arms, in midwater, like a bride held on the arms of her groom. Her arms had clutched to his neck and she had looked at him, a little mislaid, and he, still smiling half gently half slyly, dripping with salt water and with the blond hair drenched and shining in the sun... "Now, close your eyes and relax, my love. And remember, trust me."

And so she had done.

She had felt herself raised a little more yet, and had felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, in front.

"Let go my neck, Hon."

And so she had done.

"Make as if you were resting on your back and spread your arms and legs, as if you were lying on a bed."

And so she had done.

"Abandon yourself, darlin'. Trust me. Trust me, my love."

And so she had done.

"Open your eyes, my love."

And so she had done. And she had found herself looking at the sky, and floating, belly up, on the quiet surface of the sea, just supported from behind by his arms, very slightly, almost as if they weren't doing it, as if they there were not.

"Did you see, sweetheart? Cool, huh? Stay so, do not move, be quiet, we are making good progress. Only a small step yet. Close your eyes again, my love."

And so she had done, relishing the new and pleasant sensation, letting the water rock her and cover her, so that she was not able to hear clearly Trip's last words.

She lifted her head a little, still eye-closed, in that delicious play, so that her ears could be able to listen to him.

His voice, again. This time she heard well. It was clearer, although seemed a little less close. It rang both cheerful and malicious. "You can open your eyes again, Hon."

And she did. And she saw the luminous sky again.

But she didn't see him at her side, looking at her from above, as before.

She rolled her eyes with circumspection. She saw him. He was no longer close to her, was slightly departed. Surrounded by the water up to his chest, he was looking at her with a sly smirk, lips closed and eyes shining with cunningness.

And with his arms underwater, as before, but… in the position typical of her, behind his back. The arms that she suddenly realized she no longer felt beneath her.

"Magic performed, babe."

She... she was floating alone! Trip was no longer sustaining her! This was ... this was ... magic! Yes! Yes, sure! But... but...

T'Pol did not have time to get flustered, to get disarranged. Trip was immediately next to her, his arms were again immediately below her. "No, no, Hon! You have seen what you can do, you've seen it, didn't you?"

He smiled to her with pride. _And love_. "You can do it, sweetie."

His eyes laughed. "You know very well how to move in empty space. Water is like the void, but it is more friend than the cold space, darlin'. Water does not betray you, if you trust it. Never. It supports you. It goes along with you. Simply..." - His hands started to leave her again – "... you too have to go along with the water.

Now T'Pol was alone again. Trip had again drawn away from her, even if very little, so little that she was perfectly able to see his face. He was staring at her. Meaningfully. With love. _And pride_. As she floated. Alone. Knowing – this time perfectly aware - that she was floating alone, without his help.

"Thus, my love, yes, like that. Without fear. With the courage and the skilfulness and the smartness that are your own. The water does not submerge you, merely it caresses you, covering you with sweetness and then withdrawing with the same sweetness. You must just go along with it. You… must breathe with the water."

Trip's eyes were exploding with pride and joy. "Yes, my sweetheart, my darling, my love. You have to breathe along with the water. You taught me how to breathe to go along with the meditation. Now, let water teach you how to breathe to go along with it. Breathe with the water."

Yes, she knew she could. She exhaled and she went down, and the water covered her - _caressed her_ - gently. Then she inhaled and she went up, and the water retreated. Gently.

And again. And again. And again.

And she floated. Abandoned to water. The "friend" water.

And it was marvellous.

"Isn't it marvellous, my love?"

T'Pol's voice rose, finally, from amid the water that, connive and accomplice, was placidly sustaining her, breathing with her. She spoke for the first time since she had entered the sea.

She spoke to the blue sky above her, to the friend water around her.

To her T'hai'la, forever inside her.

"Yes, Trip. It's marvellous."

* * *

"You are marvellous, sweety!"

Well, it will have been not too much Vulcan, but T'Pol could not help but get kindled with pride at hearing her man speak to her in this way, make her a so brazen compliment.

Oh, ahem, to tell the truth, it was quite a while now that she had come to the conclusion that there was nothing wrong, indeed that there was a lot of good, in being proud of the verbal demonstrations of love and appreciation that her Trip was in the habit of addressing so often to her.

The only problem was ... well, yes, that sometimes he forgot not to speak to her like that when they were not alone.

Rather embarrassing. But, all in all, - T'Pol smiled to herself, in a damn human way, useless to deny - not at all unpleasant.

This time, though... well, this time, it was really special. This time her T'hai'la had ... oh well, yes, really! He had every reason to make her such a compliment! It was exactly like that. Why being unreasonably and illogically reluctant in admitting the great value of her feat? Why not be justifiably proud? And why not be proud of the pride her Trip felt for her? He was _**her**_ Trip, exactly that, her T'hai'la, her Ashayam, and the feelings he had for her could not be treated as things of no importance. They _**were**_ important to her. Certainly, her Trip had been the engine, the primary cause of her success. Not for nothing, eh, not for nothing Trip was her Trip. But this certainly didn't take off any merit from her, didn't minimally cheapen what she had done, before, at the beginning of her swimming lesson, and even more so, what she was doing… _**now**_.

At first she had - how had Trip said it? - had floated in the manner of a dead man. Hum, no. In the manner of a dead woman. She had fluctuated - alone - on her back, on the water surface, had let the water teach her how to breathe, had gone along with water.

She had learned, and very swiftly, not to be wary of the water, not to be troubled by the way it wrapped her, to appreciate, even to enjoy, its enveloping caress.

Then, her T'hai'la_... _

**...****...****...****...****...**

"_Feet on the ground ... Oh, er, on the bottom, babe. Next step of the swimming lesson. After the magic, the practice of reality."_

**...****...****...****...****...**

Without problems, - T'Pol smiled again to herself. She was sure that Trip would have said: _with her usual and natural skill and elegance_ - she had straightened and had placed her feet on the seabed. Now she had understood well. It was true, Trip was absolutely right: it was like moving in the void, with the very advantageous difference that in the water you could also rely on the resistance offered by the water itself, so as to move, whereas in the void, you could only be based on the contortions of your body and, without the proper tools, you are condemned to impotence of the immobility, or worse, to be helpless prey of the force of inertia.

The problem, in water, was that you had to understand with readiness and prompt perspicacity what were the movements to do to take advantage of the water resistance for the purpose of your movements themselves.

Not perfectly and immediately feasible, this, for a Vulcan like her, not exactly inclined - to speak euphemistically - to rely on such a medium. Illogical to deny it: between her breed and the open waters there was bad blood, Trip would have said. And, in addition, it was also necessary to understand how to breathe - _or not to breathe_ - so as not to get caught off guard by the water. But, this, in a sense, it was easier for her and more spontaneous. Even in this, Trip was right: the breathing techniques that she had learned in her Vulcan training were perfect for this purpose.

And then, let's not forget: there was her Trip, there, with her.

And with him… - T'Pol told herself again, with understandable pride and satisfaction - …with him she could do it all.

Also...

**...****...****...****...****...****...****..****...**.**...**

"_Okay, baby, now, your eyes fixed on mine and your hands in mine. Perfect, this way. Now, listen well to what I say and follow what I do. And… no fear."_

He had not given her time to be able to worry about what was behind that _no fear_. He had thrown himself back and had begun to swim belly up, moving only his feet and dragging her with him, his face raised so as to be able to watch hers. Eh, her Trip was really good in the water.

But she was not! And finding herself suddenly that way in the water, belly down, dragged forward by him, who was swimming backwards, she above and a little lag behind him, and he below... well, it hadn't been… just a trifle.

"_No fear, I said! Listen to me! Follow what I do!, _he had shouted, as she had started to get flustered and was in risk of dragging him underwater with her. _Keep your legs up and your body horizontal. You can do it! Come on!"_

She had succeeded. She did not know exactly how, but she had made it.

"_Very well. Now, listen to me, Hon. You have been able to touch with your hand that water can sustain you, but, to really swim, you have to dominate the water. You mustn't merely make sure to be passively sustained by water; you must force water to sustain you always and in every case"_

A smirk, in his eyes. "_So, babe... fear not!"_

And he had left her. Unexpectedly, suddenly and without warning. To the point that she hadn't been able to attempt any sort of grasp.

She had gasped.

They had turned away from the shore now. No longer the safety of the close seabed on which to rest her feet!

"_Move! Be smooth! Be nimble! Be limber! Do not stiffen! Do not be dominated by water. Dominate it! Move your legs! Move your arms! Move your hands! Move yourself like hell you want! You can not sink if you do not want to!"_

And she had made it! Yes! She had made it! Disorderly and higgledy-piggledy at first, excitedly, then more confidently, _more and more confidently_, until in the end she had found herself almost sitting in the water, floating, her feet unable to touch the seabed, not at all near, under her, sustained by the water itself and by the slight and yet strong – _and precise_ - movements of her limbs and her body.

And also coughing and spitting a little convulsively, reacting to ... well, Trip had told her that she would have inevitably been drinking. But, Surak! How much she had been drinking! And how it was salty, the sea water!

But how good it was all this! It was marvellous!

Next to her, close to her, her Trip, of whom only the head emerged from the sea. Like for her. Her T'hai'la, who was swimming, was fluctuating, in lightness and freedom. Like her.

Her Ashayam, who was looking at her with adoring eyes and proud.

Who said...

**...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...**

"You are marvellous, sweety!"

* * *

"Do you refer by chance to that which you define as _my awfully feminine and amazingly succulent 'curves' _?"

A little of understandable puzzled wonder, at first, then ... "Ah ah ah, yes! That is, no! But, yes, yes, of course. I mean, that your curves are an ambulant wonder, well, that's sure, it is a fact. However, my prickly delight, the wonder to which I was referring, in this case ..." - Trip made a wriggle in the water and came rapidly over to T'Pol until his nose practically rubbed against hers. "The wonder is you! What you do. What you are capable of doing. What you are. What you are to me. You are marvellous, T'Pol!"

Trip made suddenly a wheelie, literally, strongly emerging from the water up to his waist.

T'Pol, who had just learned to overcome her distrust for deep and open water, who - amazingly, considering the breed she belonged to - was swimming (yes, exactly that!) and was even taking pleasure from staying immersed in the water, looked at him with a gaze that couldn't not betray her proud admiration; the admiration imbued with legitimate pride, because that man was hers, was her man; the admiration that warmed her heart and that she was no longer trying to hide inanely from him and above all to herself. Surak, how he was good in the water! As well as in space. And in his machine room. And wherever! How many things were hidden under his jocular and apparently naive way of being! What a very great lot of very good reasons she had of being proud of him! Of having him. Of being his woman.

Trip fell again back down into the sea, disappearing below. Reappeared. His head, his smiling face, emerged, bursting out of the water. He looked smirking at her. Darted back. Stopped. Bent forward. His head and his body sank into the water, only his back cropping out. Practically at the same time his legs went up, stood on end, emerging, upright, with feet up. And, without substantially the water being moved, he sank, went under. Like a torpedo. Head down.

T'Pol looked around, a little troubled, exploring the sea surface, now just barely frizzy because of the contortions that Trip had made, which had closed above him.

A few moments passed. The surface returned absolutely quiet. An… an oil. And of Trip, not even the shadow. Where ... _Where the… Where the hell?_ ... T'Pol felt illogically anxious.

A tenuous noise, beside her, like as a sort of churning. She turned quickly her head. A mouth, moist and yet hot, on hers. Well known.

_**Smack! **_

"Trip!"

His laughter rang out high on the water.

"You are marvellous, T'Pol!"

And he threw back, laughing happy and joyful, playing in the water and with water.

And with her.

T'Pol looked at him furtively, as he was cheerfully pirouetting in the water, her arched and thin eyebrows slightly frowning.

She evaluated.

Her analytical and photographic Vulcan mind had recorded every movement Trip had made.

Her confidence on and of the water had considerably increased, even in that short time.

She had a great capacity of control of her body, by nature and by her hard training.

She knew very well how to control her breath.

Her Trip repeated to her at every single step, saying in his own words, namely on every occasion, that she was a… _crackerjack_. And he never lied.

_So, could it be done?_

Her lips moved imperceptibly into a smile. Very, very human. _Very, very Trip-like._

She tested mentally her body, her neo-acquired ability to move in the water, to dominate it.

It could be done.

Her slight smile became a little more evident, more marked, resembling more and more those that were usually printed on his T'hai'la's mouth when he was about to turn one of his tricks behind her back.

It _**had to**_ be done.

She inspired deeply. How Trip had done it.

She bent forward. How Trip had done it.

She pulled up her legs. How Trip had done it.

She floated on the water, horizontally, belly down. How Trip had done it.

She threw down her head and shoulders. How Trip had done it.

The unknown world that lay beneath the surface appeared to her eyes.

It was weird, but her eyes seemed easily able enough to bear that strange, distorted, inaccurate, bluish vision, indeed, to tell the truth, it was nice; Trip had been right about the - how did he say? - the magical atmosphere of the underwater world. And even her ears, after all, seemed to fare quite well, at least at that exiguous depth, despite the fastidious rumble that in that so highly conductive medium throbbed against her sensitive eardrums. The olfaction ... oh well, the delicious, entrancing scent of her Trip, by now firmly and perpetually present in her nose, into her nostrils, put her sense of smell safe from any danger.

She wasted no time.

The highly operational and extremely controlled connection between her orderly memory, her well set mind and her exercised body began to function. Perfectly.

Her body obeyed.

Her legs rose, straight, feet aloft, while the front part of her body disappeared under water.

As if by magic she sank. Like a torpedo. Head down.

* * *

"T'Pol!"

Trip froze his water dance of cheerful elation.

Where ... where? ...

Fool! Idiot! Stupid!

He had lost sight of her! He had been distracted! And she ... she...

Where was she? Under...under?...

But how could he have been so moronic?

She had just learned to move in the water, and he ... he...

He cried out in despair, his voice cracking. "**T'Pol! Darling! Hon! T'Pol!**"

The surface of the sea was practically motionless and ... and empty!

Down! Down! Quickly! Quickly!

He didn't have time.

A tenuous noise, beside him, like as a sort of churning. He turned quickly his head. A mouth, moist and yet hot, on his. Well known.

_**Smack! **_

"T'Pol!"

The wonderful silvery sound of her laughter that he had known for the first time the night before rang out high on the water.

Trip gasped, almost risked drowning.

He coughed, spat out salt water, floundered and finally managed to recover in some way.

Eyes wide open and fixed on the quiet and sassy T'Pol's face, emerging from the water just in front of him; terribly agitated; in a shrill voice, he succeeded at last in articulating "T'Pol! You ... you ... you ... you are ... you are ..."

The controlled and decidedly fluty voice of T'Pol interrupted him. Slightly panting, to tell the truth. It hadn't been exactly a trifle, rolling over under water and emerging in that way. Things were absolutely not the same, down there, and the orientation was far from easy, not to mention she had had to invent her own movements, letting herself be guided, and in an environment really foreign to her, by something to which Vulcans were anything but wont and willing to resort, the instinct. She would not even remotely have thought to do such a thing before, namely before Trip had entered so deeply and indelibly in her veins and in her spirit. Be that as it may, she had made it. And the game had been worth the candle.

"I am… _**marvellous**_, Ashayam?"

For a moment, Trip did not know what to say or do. His eyes - horrified, that's the word - were blocked into those - Mocking! Mocking, damnit! Slyly mocking! - of T'Pol.

Then his mouth has been finally able to close. His eyes lit up. And they laughed. Literally. Relieved. And happy. And full of love.

His hand emerged from the water and went to tenderly caress T'Pol's cheek.

"Marvellous? No, I do not think so. You're more than marvellous. You are the marvel of marvels, Hon. However, T'Pol ..." His voice dropped, almost cracked. T'Pol clearly saw that his eyes grew moist, and not as a result of the ambience damp. "…The stupid brainless unwary between the two of us, it's me, T'Pol. Do nevermore steal from me the role, okay?"

T'Pol felt ... guilty! "Ashayam ..."

"Okay, T'Pol?"

T'Pol rubbed her cheek against Trip's fingers. "Okay, T'hai'la."

"Very well." Trip managed to recompose himself. "Now, about your swimming lesson..."

"T'hai'la, do not you believe that I have given sufficient proof that I have learned enough to allow you to hug and kiss me, in the water and under the water?"

"Darlin'..."

"And maybe to do something more than merely this?"

* * *

**The chronicles of the time tell us that, in that stretch of water, at that day, at those hours, it was recorded a circumscribed, but very intense, tidal wave.**

**Not short-lived.**

******...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...****...**

**End of Part One.**

**TBC**

_**********...****...****...****...****...****..**_

_**If you like, in the second part it will be narrated in detail this peculiar tsunami.**_

_**And even more than that.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**BIKINI**

_**(The Swimming Lesson)**_

**Chapter Two**

* * *

_Here we go. The swimming lesson continues. Considering the last words of T'Pol in the previous chapter, and considering also the circumscribed tidal wave of which I have mentioned, where will it lead us? Or, rather, where will it lead Trip and T'Pol? Let's see, my friends. __Let's see._

* * *

**BIKINI**

_**(The Swimming Lesson)**_

**Chapter Two**

**:::::::::**

"Something… _more_?"

A big cheeky smile widened out on Trip's face. He manoeuvred to sink a little bit, so that only his eyes, mischievous and irreverent, could emerge. Sparkling with fun, they watched T'Pol.

With mild and well calibrated thrusts, he slowly approached her, who was looking at him half-waiting half-quizzical, to the point that their two bodies hindered one another in their sustaining in the water. Then, suddenly, he retreated with a quick spurt and right after made his face come out, in full, from the water, still with that bantering smile on his mouth and that glint of tease in his eyes, indeed now even more archly gleaming.

"Mh. I'm not so sure it's a good idea, babe. You can also be the wonder of wonders, can also have been able to learn how to float by yourself in the water in such a short time; even more, you can also have been capable of accomplishing the exuberant performance you did; but from here to be a so clever swimmer and skilled to allow you the luxury to do with me what you suggest we do ... well, there it takes a lot, my love, so vulcanly self-confident."

The teasing smile turned into a blatant smirk. "Maybe some light kiss and small could be enough. Don't you think is better? After all, we are only at your first swimming lesson." - The smirk changed into a grin, which be defined puckish would be an understatement. – "Others will follow."

T'Pol raised her eyebrow. She had to admit that, even with all her strength and her remarkable Vulcan resistance, it was hard for her sustaining herself in the water. The density of her body certainly didn't help her, and the movements she had to make were necessarily greater, in number and power, than those required of Trip.

He was absolutely right.

But…

_(*Damn insolent Human!*). _

She watched him, her eyebrow still lifted and nevertheless flaunting the most deadpan of faces for an authentic Vulcan.

He wished for her. He wanted her. It was clear. Evident. She could feel it. He wanted her at least as much as she wanted him.

And he provoked her. Pricked her. Challenged her! One more time, he challenged her!

His argumentation was nothing more than another of his dirty tricks. What he said was true, it was logical, but the way he said it, his whole non verbal language, meant: _Let's see, my ..._ - Yes, he would have spoken so - ... _my sweet vulcan doll, let's see. Let's see if you're capable of daring_, _of showing me one more time the special Vulcan who you are. __**My**__ special Vulcan!_

She didn't have to fall for it. She did not have to!

And yet...

_(*Damn impudent Human!*)._

Although the undeniable efforts she had to make, although her previous "exuberant performance" hadn't passed without leaving its mark, which, though, with her usual constitutional stubbornness, matched only by that of her pig-headed Human, she, against all logic, struggled not to admit, and indeed peremptorily refused to admit more or less consciously... in spite of all this...

_(*Damn overbold Human!*)._

The fact was that she was indeed a very special Vulcan, and, above all, the special Vulcan of Trip.

And so…

Without Trip being able to notice it, T'Pol started to prepare herself.

The eyebrow went down, changing her face into a stolidly suave expression.

"Do I have to assume that your so much self-vaunted ability to swimmer is not sufficient to make up for my lack of experience, in case of … - She emphasized strongly the words - …_such peculiar circumstances_?"

"Well, Hon. Such _peculiar circumstances_..."

"Even worse. Do I have to assume I have been wrong to trust you, when, in front of my objections, that you defined as an expression of - textually - my _usual exorbitant vulcan caution_, you told me that it was not necessary to have any lifeguard, because _you, alone, with all your skills and experience, were more than enough_? Again I quote verbatim."

"Hey, babe! I do not speak in vain! Never! You should know, by now!"

"And not only. You've also said that your ability to swimmer was such that there was no fear of any possible danger that lurked under the water, as any kind of unexpected underwater currents or something. Not to mention your bragged assertion that you could effectively handle whichever kind of sea life we might meet hereabout."

"Hey, sort of peppered honey! I'm just saying that I do not ..."

"Speak in vain?"

"Just that!"

"Prove it."

"Is it a challenge?"

"But when have I never challenged you? This would really be… in bad taste."

Those words from her… those words that were his same words!

Trip goggled his eyes and lost control. The water of the sea, insolent and impertinent, slipped into his open mouth.

_Cough cough..._ _sputter_ - "Damn chee... - _cough_ - Damn cheeky vulcan female! - _Cough_ - Now... - _sputter _- Now I'll show you if I speak in vain or not!

Okay. Perfect. - _(*In this way, my insolent… loved Human.*) _- Now T'Pol was ready. She was going to get into trouble and she knew it. But, to quote Trip, who gave a damn? Her whole life had become a trouble, a… a mess, since she had fallen in… in this damn mess named love!

The most desirable of messes!

"Okay, T'hai'la. Show me what you're capable of doing."

Trip stretched out a hand.

"But first, you have to take me, my _dear_ T'hai'la."

T'Pol moved back a little, and Trip's hand grabbed the void

"You know, my _dearest_ T'hai'la, I'm a vulcan female - _a cheeky vulcan female_ - so, you must earn me, even in the water, not only on the mainland, like you did last night."

Trip snorted, happily resigned. And excited. He arranged himself for the marine attack.

"However, there's no guarantee, my _beloved_ T'hai'la, that, even with all your much-vaunted ability as a swimmer, you will succeed in doing in the water what you managed to do on the mainland. This time I won't let me be taken by surprise. Your treacherous tricks won't do you any good."

T'Pol disposed herself for the jerk, while Trip, with narrowed eyes, was getting ready for his, unaware, however, of those which were the true intentions of T'Pol.

He wanted, he had challenged her, to overcome once again her innate and logical and _damned _ tendency and habit to go feet first, to walk on eggshells; he wanted, just by flaunting in front of her cute nose, the illogic of doing what she herself had suggested to do, her to be pushed to dare. He knew that this was a very good system because T'Pol - now he knew it very well - could not resist the idea of doing what he made her understand that she wasn't able to do. T'Pol was always looking to overcome her limits, whether consciously or not, and just for this she was a Vulcan - a woman - really special, just for this she was so unique, so rare a gem. For this reason, as if the rest were not enough, he loved her so madly.

She needed only, almost always, a little push and this he had given her, even in that circumstance, and if the particular way in which she had decided to take up his challenge one more time, would also bring with it a little of that exciting fight of love she had given him the pleasure to enjoy the night before, so be it!

But Trip could not imagine how much beyond her supposed limits T'Pol had decided to go, picking up his challenge; he had no idea what was behind her _own _words of defiance.

"And then, my _adored _T'hai'la, you've going to prove that you're really the great swimmer you say you are."

And, a shot of the heel, a contortion, and she turned and, with all her strength, awkwardly and distortedly but powerfully, began to swim forward, towards the shore, escaping from him, who stood there, totally caught off guard, unable to believe that she could have thought to do what she was doing.

Or trying to do.

Eh sure, because this time T'Pol really had overestimated herself.

The fatigue was felt. Strongly. Too much effort. Too much. T'Pol felt her forces weaken. Lost coordination. Lost concentration. And the shore was not close.

She reeled. Gasped.

Trip, who had begun to go after her, to chase her, noticed it immediately. He wasted no time to curse his stupidity for having challenged her nor hers for having gone above and beyond what the challenge entailed. He quickened potently the strokes of his arms and legs.

Thankfully, if T'Pol had overestimated herself, she had also underestimated how truly Trip was a good swimmer.

In a flash, he was just behind her, who had begun to be overwhelmed by the water and was fidgeting vainly and was sinking. He quickly slipped under the water, which had by now become shut over T'Pol, and rushed on her. He stretched out, reached out to grab her and he did it, grasping the first thing of her that he could catch, without understanding, in the confusion and in the ferment of the water, what he had gripped.

The noise was muffled underwater, but it has been heard pretty well anyway.

A sound as a damped "**RIP!**"

Trip certainly did not wonder what it was or meant, actually he did not even pay attention. The only thing that mattered to him was that his grip, even if insufficient to grasp T'Pol firmly, however had allowed him to catch her.

He grabbed her with both his arms, spun around himself belly up, placed himself below her, under water, propelled her upward, toward the surface, until she emerged and could breathe, sustained her, managed to get his head out from the water with great effort and finally pushed her and himself, hardly and without breath, towards the beach, only with the push of his legs, swimming backwards desperately, with his back turned down.

God willing, they came to the shore. The surf has been kind; it didn't suck them back toward the sea. It drove them along the strand. It stirred them a little and then left them.

And they lay panting on the sand.

Trip below T'Pol, on his back, and T'Pol above him, her face down and buried in his neck.

A few moments passed.

Motionless in that position, they were trying to recover, to overcome fear, unaware if they were died or alive, unaware of one another.

Then, finally, Trip opened his eyes, almost painfully, and he realized.

Everything.

Where they were, out of the sea thankfully, and where they lay and how.

And he felt the dead weight of T'Pol on him.

_(*Oh God! Oh my God!*)_

Then he heard - and felt - her breathe against him.

_(*Oh my God, yes! __**Yes, my God!**__*)_

"T'Pol! T'Pol! Honey, MY TREASURE!"

A cough, another, and then, at last, uncertain and muffled, her voice, her marvellously sweet voice!

"Trip."

And he pressed tightly to him the treasure he had almost risked losing.

Then the anger came!

Stronger than the relief.

And even more so, if he thought that T'Pol's reckless action had been in a sense the result of his own behaviour, of his idiotic challenge, of his foolish habit to push her to do things she would never have done, if not provoked by him, and this, namely the idea that the touchpaper of the thoughtless conduct of T'Pol could have been him, multiplied his rage. And this rage, this rage… he had to give vent to it, somehow, he had to give vent to the tension! _He had to pick on someone!_ _**On T'Pol, damnit!**_ _**On her!**_

Sure, because if he was stupid, this didn't mean that she, too, should be stupid! Bond or not Bond! She was T'Pol, for the devil! She was not him! She was clever, smart, prudent, cautious, level-headed. She could not, **had not** to behave like him! And then, in any case, she ... she should not have done what she had done! She had promised, goddamn! And it was not the first time she overestimated herself, risking her life, not caring about him and what he said to her, like that time with the Romulans' drone. But this time she had exceeded all limits. Damn Vulcan! But what the hell had she thought to do?

"T'Pol! But what's gotten into you? Are you crazy? You had promised it to me, for devil' sake! Me! Me, I am the inconsiderate lunatic! Me! Not you!"

T'Pol opened her eyes in turn, wide awake now, and fully aware.

Yeah. What had come over her? Okay, the Bond, but...

Dazed and unsure, she gently extricated herself from Trip's embrace.

She needed to see him well, had to look into his eyes to try to explain to him, if possible, although it would be hard for her not to escape his angry gaze and rightly accusatory. But she had to do it. She needed to find in their wondrous blue something of his love for her that always shone in them, which could be of use for her to try to justify herself.

And to be forgiven.

Even if, frankly, this was one of those times when she did not know how to do it.

_This time she had really done it! _

In comparison, her behaviour of that time with the Romulans' drone, had been nothing, _less_ than nothing. At least, in that case, she could have had some real justification, given the situation. And then, at that time, she and Trip were not to each other what they were now; she, persevering in her stupid dumb stubbornness, hadn't yet fully followed her heart. But now... now... what kind of excuse could she ever find?

Worry and dismay seized her. She couldn't control them, it would take the help of Trip for her to do it, but her Trip was too angry with her, now, - she could sense it perfectly even without the Bond - to soothe her troubles as he was wont to do, to give her the balance that only with him and through him she could have. Her concern, her anxiety, were such that the tension she was feeling now blanked out the tension and exhaustion resulting from the mess from which the two of them had just come, and this just thanks to him, thanks to his expertise in swimmer that she had challenged him to prove.

_He had said it to her, for Surak's sake!_ He had told her not to overdo, not to take too much confidence with the sea. In his own way, of course, but he had been very clear. And she had promised! _And she had not honoured!_

How, what, could she do?

She… _she was in a cleft stick, _her T'hai'la would say.

She sat up slowly, leveraging with her arms on his chest and putting herself astride him, her legs bent, her knees resting on the sand against his sides, not to miss the reassuring contact with his body and at the same time, to be able to watch him well. To attempt to stare into his eyes and withstand their gaze.

And, in doing so, she realized that...

Her pelvis was exactly above his, to better say the lower part of her pelvis, or to say even better the most concealed part of her body, the one… between her thighs, and her new position, sitting on top of him, straddling him, who was still lying supine on the sand, allowed her to feel – perfectly, in fullness, even if maybe not exactly at… its maximum, considering what had just happened and the consequence of being drenched - _his own fullness._

Just… against the right spot.

As if nothing were interposed between the mentioned spot and his fullness.

_Nothing_…_ - _T'Pol's hands darted down to check - …_but __**his**__ swimsuit. And… only that._

Her gaze flickered from the frowning and angry face and of Trip - whose rage had prevented him from noticing the moves of T'Pol's hands - to his arms, pillowed at his sides on the sand; to his hands; to his _right_ hand, which, unknowing, was holding between the fingers something that she had seen with the corner of her eye, without paying attention to it, to _what_ it was.

But now she could see what it was.

T'Pol suddenly realized what she had to do. To make amends by Trip, she had to behave just as T'Pol, the T'Pol who he loved, exactly the T'Pol he had fallen in love with, and who - she knew it very well, by now - he absolutely didn't want to change, be different from the woman who was and _who had chained his heart_, as always he was saying to her. But, at the same time, she had to make grip on his innate sense of humour, his _weird_, _odd_, sense of humour, the one she had learned to understand and appreciate and, even, to share.

However, all this was not enough. The T'Pol who had born from her love for Trip, understood, knew very well, that in doing all this, she should also show to him, _with body language_, how much she loved him and wanted him. Something that she had not been able to do before, but now, yes. With him, yes.

Her Trip was very sensitive to body language, _**her body**_, a fact, this one, that - she had to be honest with herself and admit it - never failed to fill her with pleasure and pride.

And in front of all that - she knew it, had no doubt - the anger of her T'hai'la would evaporate… her beloved would have said thus, yes, he would have talked so…. _would evaporate like snow in the sun._

And - T'Pol savoured rejoicingly the fullness she felt… _there_ - despite all had just happened, despite the fear, despite the exhaustion she felt – she _had _felt, until a few moments before, before she realized she was safe, in Trip's arms - it would have cost her no effort, no fatigue.

Fear and fatigue… would evaporate like snow in the sun.

_They had already evaporated like snow in the sun._

She straightened her torso and stretched herself, as if trying to chase away the fatigue and eliminate the lactic acid accumulated in her muscles, to put it as any Vulcan would, with an innocent doing, which, though, looked as decidedly not-vaguely voluptuous. She stretched out her arms to him and lay softly her hands on his chest, looking like she was doing this to support herself, but also for something more than merely that. For suggesting something else.

But, obviously, in doing that, she - _inevitably_ – had to move her pelvis a little.

_Which… would have brought with it that he could not have failed to feel her, - __**her softness**__ - through the thin fabric and wet of his swim briefs, with... __**a highly sensory and tactile perception**__._

She looked him straight in the eyes, well open, now, perplexed and amazed, aimed to understand what she was doing, as well as his confused brain had swerved suddenly to try comprehending what he was… _feeling_ - and the damn sensitive way with which he was feeling it! - while his _fulness_ responded to her _softness_ and, in the teeth of everything, of what had just happened, of his anger and his exhaustion, started inescapably to turn into _hardness_.

_Which, of course, has been immediately perceived by T'Pol._

Very well. Everything was going as it should. Now it was time to talk. Exactly as _he, her T'hai'la, _would have expected she would do. But only up to a certain point. Yes, only up to a certain point.

T'Pol spoke with her usual neutral tone, as neutral it appeared her face, but her voice was slightly hoarse, and her expression, in some way, languid. Nebulously and yet explicitly allusive.

She knew that her T'hai'la knew how to grasp every sign in her, every little nuance, what no one else would be able to perceive, not even remotely. And this time it came to signals decidedly far away from being mere nuances.

"You have it with the lower part of my clothes, apparently, whether it comes to my shorts or to my bikini panties. Shall I assume that this has some recondite meaning? "

Trip's eyes narrowed in his effort to understand.

Then they widened as he began to understand.

Then they turned quickly to the right, in the direction in which he had before seen move the eyes of T'Pol and there, in his right hand, inadvertently still clutched in it, he could see. And realize what it had been the dull sound - that sort of muffled tear - he had vaguely perceived in the water.

It was there, imprisoned between his fingers. A small shred of red cloth.

All what was left of the bikini panties of T'Pol.

Just in that moment, the mentioned Vulcan female moved a little again. Right _there_. With her _right _spot against his _right_ spot.

Trip's eyes, more and more open wide, returned quickly on T'Pol, on her face.

She was looking at him. With a look ... with a look...

And how she was leaning to him with her slim and shapely arms! How her sensitive hands were lazily –_ languidly!_ - ruffling the hair of his chest!

Damn scoundrel of a Vulcan female!

"T'Pol!"

Her choked name was all he could say. Trip wasn't able to continue. Perforce! T'Pol had moved again! Definitely… intentionally.

His eyes darted down, looking at her lower parts. _Nude_. In full - _and wanted_ - contact with his lower parts, covered, they yes, hitherto, but about to erupt out from the tenuous barrier of the briefs of his bathing suit.

Trip understood. Finally he fully understood. And surrendered. Damn dodger of a girl! Gosh, how much she had learned love things! He had been her teacher, but now, who was the true teacher? Him? Or her? Trip could not help but smile openly. Her, no doubt!

But what could he do? And then, did he really want to do something?

Well, come to think, he had something to do: he had to make sure to be the only pupil of so great teacher.

And… maybe even take the luxury to teach the teacher something else yet.

His anger evaporated like snow in the sun.

As well as any fatigue, any tension.

His hands snapped on the silky, naked, hips of T'Pol.

They played with the softness of her skin, while his eyes lost themselves, blissfully, in the depths of hers.

She was his lady and mistress.

And he her happy slave.

And if she looked at him like that, in that way, as she was looking at him now, who would ever longer have wished freedom?

He understood that there was only one thing, now, he could and wanted to do: playing along with her game of seduction and love. And so he did. Joyfully. Cheerfully. With love.

As his hands continued their play on T'Pol's skin, vibrating - he could feel it - under his touch, he smiled slyly at her from his lying position. "I have to improve my swimming. My action was successful only in half. You know, _my sweet Vulcan_, I told you, last night: I prefer you… buck naked."

It has been the matter of few moments, of a fast sequence of quick movements on the part of T'Pol which have came in succession one after other as a single, fluid, lissom, graceful move.

Her hands left Trip's chest and ran behind her back, while, at the same time, she, still well astride him, straightened her torso, putting in full evidence her buxom bosom, bursting out from under the meager cups of the bra of her "reduced by half" bikini.

Hidden from Trip's eyes, her hands bustled out behind her back for an instant and then reappeared, well raised above her head, well aloft, with, in the right, the tiny red bra, which immediately flew away, launched distant on the sand with a twist of her wrist that made it eddying in a rakish and pert gesture.

Her wonderful, florid breasts offered themselves bare to the baffled sight of Trip.

Vulcanly deadpan, but with her eyes shining mischievously and invitingly, with the corners of her lips imperceptibly curved upward, she stared at him, going on to keep her arms well lifted, so that he could freely and unimpeded enjoy the view of her bosom - of her body - _buck naked_.

"You mean this way, _my witty Human_?"

Trip has run the risk of remaining choked.

_(*I've created a monster!*)_

Yes, just so. He, Trip had created a monster.

In a flash it came back to his mind their first night of love, the first time she had shown herself naked to him so openly and nevertheless, in a way, so innocently. And then, right after, the first, uncertain, quip that she had made, after she and he had defeated those whores of Orion.

And now...

A monster of spirit.

A monster of seduction.

But...

Trip drank with eager eyes and greedy the wonderful, _buck naked_, body of T'Pol.

His, all his.

As her heart.

As her beautiful soul thirsting for love.

As her unique spirit, reverberating of unthinkable echoes of his own humour.

But ... what a splendid monster he had created!

His covetous eyes ran all along the harmonious, _appetizing_, curves of T'Pol's stark naked body, whose unashamed nakedness was even more emphasized by the only trace of garment, let's call it so, she was wearing now, the bathing cap that covered her head and that made her nudity incredibly sexy and sensual, if ever it was possible that T'Pol could be more sexy and sensual than how, even unconsciously, she normally already was.

All he wanted was to be torn to pieces by such a monster, to die mauled by her claws of love, to feel sinking into his flesh her fangs of passion.

And yet…

Imperceptible at first and then, quite suddenly, strong, mighty, Trip felt within himself the call of his masculine own self, just the one that had powerfully attracted T'Pol since the first moment she had met him without him knowing it at San Francisco airport, as she herself had revealed to him, and that, in her own words, had conquered her, subduing her with the irresistible, unique scent of his manhood.

Eh no! Not without a fight! As much he was eager to succumb to her wondrous arts of seduction, he could not capitulate like that! She should have paid a pledge for what she had done. Small, very small, but she should have to pay it.

_(*My petite, Vulcan enchantress, now you'll see.*)_

He would not have died without returning to her at least a few shots! Indeed, much more than a few!

He was still Commander Charles Tucker the Third! Called Trip! The tamer of the Vulcan females! Of _**that **_Vulcan female!

He, too, and before her, had fangs and claws! Not as deadly as hers, but he had them!

In the fight of love that she, just she, had begun, since the preceding evening, it would have been inevitably her, the final winner, but he would sell his life dearly!

Smiling amiably, he advanced with his hands along the skin of T'Pol, up, up, along her hips, slowly, softly, gently. Up to her breasts.

Trip didn't do what T'Pol expected him to do. He placed his big hands on her torso, on the smooth skin that covered her ribs, just below her bosom, a little laterally, one to the right and the other to the left, almost to embrace her minute bust with his great palms, and began to stroke smoothly her breasts at their base, with the balls of his thumbs, all along the soft curve with which they were leaning on her chest.

He saw her close her eyes, heard her sigh, felt her quiver.

He smiled.

_(*Yes, Just this way. My claws are not as beaked as yours, but they too are able to make their mark, my seductive monster. And now_…*) – His smile became a grin, as he felt her rub strongly her unclad, recondite softness against his still covered hardness, her arms now lowered, her eyes still closed, her face tense and intent, her upper body bent forward towards him, to better savour the caresses of his hands, oblivious to anything else which wasn't the sweetness and pleasure of his intimate touch, in anxious expectation of what his hands would do shortly thereafter. - _(* Now the lunge of the fangs!*)_

It cost him a not small effort, this was certain, both physical and mental, but if things had gone the way he wanted them to go...

The lien that Trip was about to make T'Pol pay, and that, after all, he too would have to pay a little, would have ended up bringing to… a _definitely noteworthy_ result. He knew from experience that T'Pol loved to be brought by him to the most extreme, and, just at that moment, almost be released, to be then taken again, with stronger vigour and determination. It was a game, this, that had always paid, with her. - Trip chuckled to himself - Since their first night. And a man has to be careful of the desires of his woman, whether stated or unsaid.

So… well, his lady and mistress would not have had anything to complain about the _final _result of what he was about to do. And, certainly, he, less than less.

His hands stopped their warm administrations. He retired them suddenly and lowered them down on the sand, while in the meantime he gave breath to his voice. He spoke with a tone quiet and fittingly hesitant, somehow. Echoing of logical, vulcan judiciousness.

"No, T'Pol. Better that we stop."

The most splendid of the most beautiful faces that a vulcan female - a woman tout court - could show, looked at him in surprise, disappointment, despondency, bewilderment.

"Hon, in water, yes, but not here. There, there would have been no risk to be seen, but here?"

A dejected sigh answered his words.

Very well. The last lunge of fangs, now. "I do not think that I, just I, have to explain to you, just to you, the necessity, the convenience, the value of decorum."

If getting to stop himself had cost him a great effort, an even greater effort has cost to him not to smile openly, continue to maintain a serious expression and compunctious at seeing T'Pol's look, shameful and yet, at the same time, crossly, like that of a child caught with his hand in the jar of jam, aware of his fault and ashamed of it, but also angry and annoyed both at being caught out and at being prevented from performing the misdeed.

Of course, it would have seemed unbelievable to anyone but him that T'Pol, exactly she, could transcend the limits of the so-called common decency to the point not to realize it and that she could show so openly such a state of mind, such a clear, _extremely significant_, expression, but the fact was that no one but him knew how T'Pol, in reality, was passionate.

No one but him could understand how a Vulcan female in love could be driven by passion, _could_ _get lost_ , in passion.

This is the greatest gift a Vulcan woman in love could give to her man, and he was the man to whom T'Pol had made this immeasurable gift of love.

Yeah. Just like that. But... if so...

And it _**was **_so.

Trip felt ashamed in turn.

He was taking advantage, shamefully, of the fragility to which the power of the love T'Pol felt for him had delivered her. No, this was wrong. This was not the way to fight that fight of love.

T'Pol's shields, her defences, were lowered. Her love for him, her passion for him, together with the strange, unusual for her, scenario where she was, where she had to act and behave and where she had wanted to be and act and behave just in virtue of the love she felt for him, were pushing her, without her even noticing, to behaviours that she would have been able to much better handle, under normal conditions, similar to those in which she was accustomed to be, to dominate.

Trip could not allow this to happen, or, rather, he could even allow it, but he could not deceive her, play with the vulnerability she showed in those moments to such a point, only for the sake… of being Trip.

It was time to discover the cards. But ... well, however in his own way. After all, wasn't _this_ the Trip T'Pol had fallen in love with?

Okay. Enough.

The claws had been shown, the fangs had shone.

Now, no longer fight of love.

Now, only love.

What he had said, what he had _not_ done - _not yet_ - was more than enough to achieve the result he wanted to achieve, the outcome on which T'Pol would not find anything to complain and of which, indeed, she would be extremely happy. - Trip grinned to himself. –_And satisfied._

He smiled _extremely_ gently at her, and at the same time with an expression in some ways hazily thoughtful. "Certainly, if you think about it, it's pretty unlikely."

T'Pol pricked up her ears. Something was wrong. Talking with the colourful way her T'hai'la would do, she could sniff out this.

She felt ill-at-ease. That was a fact. She was shameful for being caught out by Trip and for having been called to order by him, who was usually the one who needed to be called to order, and exactly by her; shameful for how she was acting; and shameful, yet more, for not feeling for the way she was acting all the shame that a Vulcan like her would have to feel, not to mention the fact that... well, yes… that they, she and Trip, should stop what they were doing and what they would do thence in a few moments.

And okay, that was true. And it was more than enough to make her feel uncomfortable, just to speak not too hard. But there was something else. What the hell meant that strange statement by T'hai'la? And his tone? It was a tone of which she had learned the hard way to be wary, almost to be afraid of, though, to tell the truth, she could affirm, and with some pride, that she had also learned to give him back blow by blow, and also very well.

She straightened herself on her bust, crossing her arms over her breasts. She arched her eyebrow, looking inquisitively at Trip with an air vaguely accusatory. She felt, she was sure, that her _perfidious _T'hai'la had played to her another one of his trickeries, and that, somehow, he was still a little wickedly playing with her.

Her voice, low, even harsh, resounded definitely leery. "What is unlikely?"

Oh yes. Definitely something was amiss. What did it mean that sly air with which her deceitful Human started to look at her? Even crossing his hands on the sand behind his nape and propping cosily his head on them, as if they were a comfortable cushion.

She insisted. With a tone of voice a wee bit higher and rougher. "_**What**_ is unlikely?"

Trip was looking at her, trying not to betray himself. Mamma mia, how she was beautiful! Since the first time he had realized how much her already stunning comeliness could become even more amazing when she got angry, trying not to show it, he had endeavoured to make her chafed. If ever it were possible, her incomparable beauty went beyond any possible description, when he was successful in reaching his goal. Now, then, positioned in the way she was, naked, with her arms crossed on her gorgeous breast, bestriding his pelvis, her eyebrow raised, with her marvellous pretty little face frowning and accusing, with that dreamful slight flushing on her cheeks which revealed her irritation...

What there could have been more beautiful?

Trip would have even been willing to submit to her vengeful Vulcan nerve pinch, just to enjoy the wonder of her beauty, when he was managing to make her angry like this!

He smiled at her, putting himself even more comfortably on the makeshift pillow of his hands. "The sun is setting, my hon."

T'Pol's eyebrow rose an inch more. "I see it. So what?"

"I think it's unlikely, very unlikely, that someone can come here now."

T'Pol's ears pricked up even more. This was pretty damn interesting. "Very unlikely?"

"Extremely unlikely. In fact, I dare say impossible."

"Impossible?"

"I think so."

"I do not understand why."

"Well, honey, this is a small beach, distant and secluded, difficult and laborious to reach. Why would anyone come here when it gets dark?"

T'Pol didn't manage not to say what came immediately to her mind. "To do..."

She stopped suddenly. It was not very Vulcan what she was about to say.

Trip smiled mischievously. "To do what we would want to do?"

T'Pol nodded. Better not say aloud that. Absolutely not too Vulcan. But it was good also make Trip understand what she meant. Although, obviously, that blackguard of her Human was perfectly aware of her thoughts and… desires on the subject.

Abandoning his imaginative pillow, Trip raised his right hand to caress T'Pol's cheek, while the other went to rest gently on her right thigh. "That's possible, babe. But I don't think this can happen." - He looked as if he was pondering for a moment. Then ... "No, I just do not think . In fact, I'm sure."

T'Pol began to feel more peaceful and… hopeful. All in all, it seemed that her man had not had any intention of playing on her any of his usual jokes. He, apparently, was really worried that the two of them - _that she_ - could go too far. He knew very well how much she would have been embarrassed if someone had caught them out. Then, he had changed his mind, had realized that, at that time, with nightfall, no one would come to disturb them in that decidedly secluded beach, distant from full of the beach activities, long and not easy to reach.

Of course, he certainly had also wanted to play a little with her, in the sequence of his thoughts and actions, just as he used to do. He was like that and she - T'Pol sighed unconsciously, a little happy a little resigned - she loved him also because he was like that. However, it seemed that there was nothing underneath. T'Pol mentally scolded herself. Sometimes she, taught by experience, showed herself being too distrustful of her T'hai'la, too afraid that he were exaggerating with his playful character, with his mania for tricks.

Nevertheless she wanted to be absolutely sure. You never know. Her Ashayam, _Trip_, was still Trip. "Why? There may be people willing to come here, just because of the dark." - She dared. - "The darkness is ... friend of the lovers."

Trip looked at her in amazement. Wow! This mode of expressing herself was something he would never have expected from T'Pol, even with all the unique knowledge he had of her. Sometimes he happened to think that inside her, unknown even to her, lay concealed the most profound ocean of passion, of marvels, which roared inside her, ready to erupt at the first, right opportunity, just as it had happened now.

From the jewel-case of occult riches buried in her, another gem had flowed out, sudden.

Trip remained dazzled by its splendour. Indeed, maybe a little too much. You know, it is not easy to follow the path you decided to walk along, when your vision is dazzled by too much light. To put it more simply, it's easy to get distracted when something catches your attention so intensely. You can get confused.

_You can be wrong._

"That's true, babe. But, you know, when the access road is closed so that only by swimming ..."

Trip stopped abruptly. He slapped mentally himself_. (*__**Idiot!**__*)_

A light bulb came on in the mind of T'Pol. "What?"

_(*Oh shit! Mess made!*)._ Trip's suddenly alarmed expression did not escape T'Pol. Her eyebrow, which had just resumed its normal position, rose briskly again. "I repeat: what?". And the tone and strength of that "what?" have certainly been not very pleasant to hear, on the part of Trip.

Obtusely, he tried to play dumb, as his face, though, turned red and his hands, both the one on the face of T'Pol and the other on her thigh, were meaningfully staying awkwardly motionless. "What… _what_, Hon?"

T'Pol shook her head, chasing away his hand. That other, the left, the one that was resting on her thigh, she could feel very well that it was sweaty. And this was definitely revealing.

Now she was really angry. No, furious. But whom has he thought of teasing, her _'beloved'_ T'hai'la? As if she had not known him well, by now! What a joke had he played on her? What joke he _was playing_, to her!

Harshly and piercingly, she stared down minaciously at her man. "I mean **what** you meant with that _'the access road is closed' _."

"Well, but nothing! Nothing, darlin'! That is, nothing important. Believe me. Really!"

The bulb in the head of T'Pol blazed with light. She understood. Everything.

Her nostrils flared. "You brought me here quite deliberately."

"Oh, ah… well, in a sense... It is a beautiful small beach, secluded, quiet. The most recommended place to give you your first swimming lesson, away from prying eyes that could put you ill at ease. It is..."

"You were well aware of this."

"Well, honey..."

"You knew this beach."

"Honey ... "

"You knew it. And I do not think I'm wrong in saying that you knew also that its access path by land" - T'Pol's voice rang decidedly upset – "is barred, with the setting sun."

"Darlin'..."

"Did you know?"

"I ... I ... Yes."

"Therefore, when you have called me to respect decorum, when you pointed out to me the risk that someone might see us, you knew perfectly well that this was practically impossible."

"Babe..."

"Did you know?"

"I ... I ... Yes."

"Eh sure, because you knew very well that no one would come here at this hour since, at this hour, it is possible doing this only by swimming."

"Sweetheart..."

"Did you know?"

"I ... I ... Yes."

"I see."

The vulcan nerve pinch. And even more. At this point, Trip was persuaded he couldn't be able to avoid it.

His brain began to strive to find a way out.

Exactly how the brain of T'Pol, for its part, had taken to strive to try to understand how the hell she had fallen so hopelessly in love with such a rascal of a Human.

He could not afford to treat her that way, could not play with her feelings in that way, those feelings that he had managed to bring powerfully out of her Katra, just for the sake of doing it. For being ... for being so damnedly Trip. Although she loved him so much exactly because he was so. And she just did not understand how this was possible. Where was the logic in this? What kind of response would Surak have found? He would have sunk for the shame of not finding any response!

It was not an excuse for the inexcusable behaviour of her unwarrantable man the rub she had done, her irresponsible disobedience to his correct, right, request not to be reckless. It was his fault that she had done it! It was his fault if she was so! It was the fault of the love that she felt for him! She was so because he had entered into her with his whole self, with his way of being and thinking and acting! He could not think to… to punish her, that way, because she was acting like him! And… and it did not matter a... a dried fig that she, for her part, had resorted to… to… to her arts of seduction!

Those arts, too, found their prime cause in him! She had discovered an ability to exercise those arts just in grace of her love for him, of… of the jealousy he had been capable of igniting inside her, when…when he and that… that damned Corporal Cole…

So? Why on earth should she feel guilty, why on earth should he feel incensed, if she had used those arts to be forgiven by him? To sidetrack him from his not unfair anger towards her, from his intention, all in all anything but illogical, to berate her for what she had done? She was a female after all! The most female of females! He repeated it to her so often! So, what the hell had he to complain about if she was acting like such a female? The female he loved?

And then, his disgraceful behaviour came from farther away. He had engineered everything! He had it all planned out! And he had had fun at her expense, hiding from her his mischievous plan and taking ignoble advantage of the foolishness that she had committed and of her blind getting lost into… into the flame of her love passion for him. He had had fun making her feel doubly guilty!

Woe to him! **Woe to him!**_ (*Now I'll show you, my damn Human T'hai'la! Now I'll show you!*)_

After the thought, after the intention, immediately came the action; rather, it has been contemporary to them. Practically by automatism T'Pol settled herself so that there could be no doubt that she was going to engulf with her dire retaliation her awfully worried Human.

She settled herself to do it with her whole being. With her heart and her mind. With her words and her expression. With the cold and fulminating twinkle of her eyes.

And. .. with body language.

Was this attitude Vulcan? Well, no. Surely no. But Whaddya Gonna Do? Too long was the time she had lived with Humans, but, above all, too long was the time - _and much more than merely the time _- she had shared with her indescribable T'hai'la.

She straightened her bust a little yet and, without thinking, as much she was wrathful, placed her hands on her hips, with clenched fists, in a pose openly threatening, _entirely consistent_ with the one that her Trip would take, if he had been in her place and, in this way, she discovered again her breasts, that, because of her pose, rose up, overbearing, even more.

Her pretty little visage was turned downwards towards Trip's face, with those marvellous deep eyes of her, now frowning and scowling, glittering with barely suppressed wrath, and just for this, even more enchanting. Most likely if the tips of her gracious pointy ears could be watched, one could see that they were glowing. Marvellously glowing.

Commander Charles Tucker the Third, called Trip, forgot everything. Embarrassment, worry, apprehension ... Everything. Even what his name was. Even who he was.

All he was able to do was watch his T'Pol open-mouthed. In silent wonder.

_But how the hell was it possible she was so beautiful?_

Before T'Pol could blow on the trumpets, his hand snapped by its own will. With a swift movement he took off away from her, her swimming cap.

He watched her in ecstasy.

It was just so. The wonderful tips of her wonderful pointed ears were wonderfully glowing.

"**Trip!"**

Nothing to do. Not even his nickname, burst out of the mouth of a T'Pol completely taken off guard, to warn, to call, to rebuke him, was enough to shake him. He merely looked at her with dreamy eyes.

A bewildered T'Pol opened by half her mouth searching for something to say that could make sense.

She could not.

Trip preempted her.

"You are wonderful, T'Pol!"

Convincingly. As if it were the word of God.

T'Pol tried to replicate, to try to say, at least in part - because she felt her anger fade, implacably - what she wanted - _would have wanted_ - to say to him. "Trip, do not ..."

Once again she could not. The adoring voice of Trip choked her warning.

"I love you, T'Pol."

And T'Pol realized she had lost her battle.

She felt a great warmth inside, and a great desire to hug tightly her Trip, to cling to him.

To kiss him.

And so she did.

And the setting sun over the sea of gold and flame lit up with its warm light the final winner of that battle of love.

The love.

* * *

_**End of Chapter two**_

_**TBC with the conclusion (And what kind of conclusion, my friends! Wait and see!)**_


	3. Chapter 3

**BIKINI**

_**(The Swimming Lesson)**_

_**By Asso**_

**Chapter Three – The Conclusion**

* * *

_And here we are, finally, my readers and friends. With the ever-valuable help of my wonderful Beta Linda, we are finally at the end of this story._

_Now, I believe, you will be well able to understand what was the precise concept that our two lovebirds had of "Shore Leave"._

* * *

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

"Are you cold, Hon?"

T'Pol curled up in the arms of Trip, huddling close – close close close - to him. "No, T'hai'la."

And it was true. Despite the coolness of the night; despite the hour so late; despite the open place, that lonely beach, where the two of them lay, on their sides, tight to one another; despite the thin night breeze blowing now from land to sea.

Despite her being completely… buck naked.

No. She was not cold. She had never felt so wonderfully, softly, caressingly, warm.

Taking care not to move out from the heat of Trip's arms' hoop, T'Pol shifted her head, just a little, to see the sky, there, over the sea, behind his shoulders and in front of her.

Her movement was lighter than the beating of the wings of a dragonfly, smaller than the thickness of one of the soft, blond hairs of her Trip. She had no intention of losing, even infinitesimally, the comfortable mainstay of the hollow of his shoulder.

But it was enough. There it was. Just there. The Moon. _That_ Moon. The Moon of Earth.

It peeped out, quiet and peaceful, full and round, large, in the midst of the dark sky, from behind the rags of slight clouds that passed quickly ahead of it, pushed by the mild wind of the night, without obscuring it, without veiling it. Evanescent, subtle webs phantasmagorically reverberant in its milky light.

It shone, the Moon. The Moon of Earth. Placidly. It mirrored itself on the sea, whose waves - smooth and calm - were breaking wheresoever into a thousand shades of silver.

T'Pol made a soft sigh, as she readjusted carefully her head again on the shoulder of Trip.

She lowered gently her eyelids, her eyes filled with the vision of the Moon reflecting on the waves and of the sea's iridescent surface, mildly and tenuously gleaming by its fairytale light.

Fairytale. Just so. _Fairytale_.

Oh, she knew - knew very well, had not gone out of her mind - that there was nothing fairytale, nor in the moon by itself, nor in the wonderful show that the moon offered of itself, nor even in the magnificent spectacle that the sea showed off, under the glow of moonlight.

And those shreds of clouds, those fantastic ghosts and unreal, now and then obscuring the bright globe of the moon for then retreating fast in front of its ashen glow, they were just… _they were just shreds of clouds, only this; blown by the wind of the night._

Nothing fairytale. Nothing of this.

Sure.

And yet...

… The Moon, the Moon of Earth…

…The sea, the clouds, the cool sand beneath her... the night...

The subtle, low, rhythmic... _mesmerizing_… chant of the surf…

They… _were fairytale._

She had so often read the romantic stories that Humans had written, that they had handed down, about the Earth's moon, their Moon. This was part of her training to the knowledge of Humans and their culture. It was a logical and scientific approach. There could be nothing to complain about such a necessity. You could not think to approach a breed without also approaching its culture.

Well, actually, she had to admit that her interest in those stories, those inventions of the imagination, was - how to say? - a little more intense than what a normal Vulcan, to quote Trip, a Vulcan who wasn't the special Vulcan she was, would show.

But she had not understood, she was not been able. She was a Vulcan, after all, in her culture, her way of being and thinking, in her education, in her doctrine. A Vulcan. Iron. And logical. She was able to understand and appreciate the beauty, but she was not - _had not been_ - able to penetrate into the vague and illogical halo in which Humans plunged their Moon. A satellite. Grand. Unusual. But what else, if not this?

How could she - she, the Vulcan woman she was - have been able to comprehend that _fairytale halo_? How could she ever have been able to understand what a sentence as this could mean: "The pale Moon, mute, uncanny, conniving witness, inspirer of love"?

But now she could understand. She understood. She Comprehended.

Because she was in love.

She was in a fairytale love.

Under the pale, uncanny, conniving, _fairytale_, light of the Moon of Earth, she had made love with her love, her T'hai'la. Her Trip.

She and he had made a fairytale love.

He had possessed her as he had never done, and she had allowed herself to be possessed by him as she had never done.

There.

On the beach. On the sand. In the night. In front of the quietly murmuring sea.

Under the fairytale moonlight.

He had penetrated her with all the power of his body and his spirit.

Of his love.

Of his _fairytale_ love.

And with that fairytale love he had enveloped her.

And enclosed into that fairytale mantle of love, she had shouted out of love.

Because she was fabulously in love.

She was in a fairy tale.

Her life had become a fairy tale.

T'Pol opened up her eyes, wrapped in the embrace of her Trip.

The Moon, from behind his back, was watching her.

It smiled at her.

With its mysterious fairytale smile.

That she now could see.

That she understood.

And T'Pol, clinging tightly to her love, smiled back at the Moon.

And the Moon, prettily, blushed in return to T'Pol.

* * *

It was not easy. No, not at all. However, it had to be done. It had to. It just could not be possible to remain always there so, embraced by each other. Naked. On the sand. In the night. Under the fairytale moonlight. In front of the charmer sea.

Eh no. It could not be done.

Although it would have been so nice to do so.

Although it would have been so easy to do so.

"Honey..."

"Mh?"

Mamma mia! What a charm, her voice, warm and sleepy! "Honey ..."

"Mh ... yes?"

But how could it be possible for him to do that? How the hell could it be possible? "Darlin'..."

A peck. On the wonderful tip of her wonderful pointed ear.

"Mh ... so. Just like that. Again. Mh… again."

"No, no, Honey." - _(*Damn it! DAMMIT!*) - "_We gotta go."

"Mh ... mh?"

Another small kiss. A small bite.

"Oh, yes…"

"Yes, yes, my love. But not here."

"No?"

"No."

"Mhhhhh… No?"

"No, my babe. We must go. It is time, before the sun rises. You know ... there is a piece of your bikini that can not be recovered. Do not you think it's best that we can retrieve your pareo before anyone can take the vision of you in… a halved bikini?"

T'Pol stretched into the arms of Trip, then, slowly, extricated herself from his embrace and sat down, cross-legged, in front of him, who sat down, him too, mimicking her posture.

Without a word, she, motionless and indecipherable, stared at him.

Buck naked and damn beautiful.

The moonlight played in her dark silky hair, shone into her enchanting dark, emerald-green eyes.

Trip tried to escape her spell.

"T'Pol ..."

"It's your fault."

Trip laughed softly to himself. Okay. T'Pol, his T'Pol, was happy. And satisfied. Although not exactly in the way he had imagined it, the goal that he had set out had been achieved.

By now he knew too well his Vulcan love. When she assumed that air, that expression, that tone, flat and devoid of inflection and, just for this, assertively more accusatory than how it would be if some emotion was leaked from it; when she became so unexpectedly provocative, but at the same time there was that twinkling in her eyes, this meant that all was well, that she felt well, was at ease.

That she was happy and content.

And that she wanted to play with him.

Their joyful game, their delicious skirmish of love.

He had learned to recognize that way, that air, that tone. That expression. That enchanting twinkling in her eyes.

And he knew inside out the role he should have played, that in some way T'Pol expected from him, that she wanted him to play.

_But he loved to confuse her._

He spoke softly with a contrite air, deliberately at odds with the mocking glint in his eyes. "I know, T'Pol. I know."

T'Pol was taken aback. That was not the answer she was expecting. _What do you mean, Vulcan doll? - What the hell does that mean? - Girl, explains a bit!_ There, responses of this type would have been good, but that one ... Eh no. Not at all.

Taking care to be absolutely Vulcan-like in the face, she managed not to arch her eyebrow. This would show with evidence her perplexity to her experienced Ashayam and she did not have to offer her side. "I'm glad you admit it." Now what? What would he say?

_(*Ha ha! All right. Very well.*)_ - T'Pol was still a Vulcan. As much as she was _'humanized'_ because of - mh, well, yes, this was true - because of him, Trip, she could not penetrate so deeply, could not extricate so easily in the pitfalls of the human humour, especially if - and this had to be said - this human humour was _his_ humour. _(*Let's see, now.*)_ - "It is always my fault, Hon."

_(*Mh No.*) _- T'Pol's eyebrow snapped upwardly, without her being able to prevent it. Her gaze turned to puzzlement. Something was wrong. Cautiously… "Oh, well. Sure… Ahem… Always?"

"You're always right, and I'm always at fault."

"Do not. .. do not overdo it. Me too..."

"Oh no no no, T'Pol!" - Trip's face was the picture of contrition. – "Who brought you here, without revealing to you his knowledge of the place? His intentions?"

"Well, you."

"Who has hidden from you that it was not possible for anyone to reach here after sunset, making fun of you?"

"Well, you. But..."

"Oh do not excuse me, my love. Do not get blinded by your love for me. The nonsense you did was just the answer to my usual idiotic way to behave."

"Mh… well… maybe… but ..."

"Do not excuse me, I tell you. But think! I even took advantage of the fact that I practically stripped naked you, to save you, with a view to make love with you, here in the moonlight."

"Well, I can not say that this..."

"That this wasn't liked by you?"

"Exactly. I..."

"But this is terrible, my love!"

"Te...?"

"Terrible, yes!"

"But…"

"It is terrible that I can take advantage of you so ignobly, to the point that you even feel happy to give in to my cravings!"

T'Pol snapped. Eh no! Not this! "I do not give in to the cravings of anyone!"

"No?"

"No! If I have given myself to you, here, on this beach, by the light of your moon, it is because ..."

"You wanted this?"

"Of course!"

"Ah! So, I have no faults in this regard?"

"Certainly not!

"So what is my fault?"

"Your fault is..."

T'Pol stopped suddenly. She had taken his bait again. Wouldn't she ever learn? But...well, after all, what did it matter? It was beautiful falling into his traps. She was not sure that any of her compatriots could ever understand, unless some woman of her kind had had the good fortune to meet a man like her Trip. And, in this case, good for her! But - and T'Pol smiled smugly to himself - this was impossible.

Anyway, however it may be, it was so, and to be really honest, in the end, her provocations to Trip had indeed intended, not too covertly, to induce him to openly show to her that aspect of his being that made him so special, so unique. So the man just for her. So… deserving of having her love. Or perhaps, more trivially, more simply… she loved him. Immensely. And that was all.

It was time to stop. And she knew how to do it. The _conniving moon_ suggested her the way.

"Your fault is to be who you are."

"Ah."

"But..."

"But?"

T'Pol's hand rose, to softly caress Trip's cheek. "I believe that for you there might be some hope."

Trip smiled. He cocked his head to fully enjoy the contact with the hand of T'Pol. "Glad to hear that. What should I do to make this hope fully flourish?"

T'Pol leaned forward. With closed eyes, she set down a tender kiss on the lips of Trip.

Then she drew back, lifting her eyelids, and looked at him with eyes bright and warm. "This is my job."

Trip laughed. Playfully. "I am lost!"

The answer came from T'Pol, low, accompanied by the most vulcanly deadpan face that she could show off.

This time, the victory would be hers.

"Yes, T'hai'la. You're lost."

* * *

They were swimming side by side; indeed, one - she - practically sustained by him, and the other - he - all intent to support her, without her experiencing too much fatigue.

"All right, my love? You are not cold, are you? Are you not getting too tired?"

A strange thought popped into the mind of T'Pol. If he, Trip, her T'hai'la, could be so oppressive in his care for her, in the present circumstance, how much the other Trip, the one whom none of them had had the possibility to know, could have been oppressive towards the other T'Pol, the one who gave Lorian to him, in his worry about her pregnancy? And - even stranger, another thought made its way into her - how much could this Trip, _her_ Trip, be oppressive towards her, if one day she had been able to give a son to him?

T'Pol did not understand how such ideas could occur to her, right now. Was it the Moon? The Earth's Moon? Was it the sea, dark and yet brilliant, around them?

Was it that strange, indefinable feeling that she felt at that moment in her relying so fully on her Trip? That strange, indefinable warmth inside her, which was keeping her safe from the not properly warm water almost more than the close physical proximity of her Ashayam? Was it that feeling of being cared for and protected? Of being… _cherished_. Something that no Vulcan male could ever give her, whereas her Trip, he yes, he could.

And how could it be possible that at that very moment, she could think of the possibility of giving a son to him? That, as much he could be definitely oppressive towards her, it... it would have been nice to feel oppressed by him, in his concern for her, while... while her belly would have increased in size, by the growth of the fruit that he would have planted inside her?

What was going on with her? It had already happened to her, before, to have thoughts about the possibility of giving him a son, but never with such intensity. And then, why now? And... and why that feeling... that unpleasant feeling about something... something really frightful that might happen exactly apropos of a possible son that she and Trip could have? Almost... almost a sort of nasty premonition? But there were no premonitions. They didn't exist. They were… illogical.

It was the Moon. Yes. It was the Earth's Moon.

T'Pol raised her eyes towards the Moon. _(*Do not overdo it, Luna. Do not overdo it.*)_

Trip's worried voice shook her from that odd fantasy.

"T'Pol! T'Pol! Honey! Why don't you answer me? Are you not well? What is this? **What is this?**"

T'Pol rubbed her thigh against that of Trip, from under the water. Since long a time now, she had realized how important it was for him to receive physical messages from her.

And also how important it was to do it, for her.

And how important it was _**for her**_ to receive his body signals, too.

"It's okay, T'hai'la. No problem. The water has maintained a sufficient amount of heat of the diurnal solar radiation to allow me to not feel cold. Not to mention the heat coming from your physical proximity. And swimming so slowly and calmly, supported by you, it does not cost me any fatigue."

"Oh ... oh ... sure. Thank goodness."

Well, but why the hell was he surprised? T'Pol was still T'Pol, after all. A Vulcan female can express herself with rationality in all circumstances. Even now.

Surely - Trip found himself smiling to himself - only she could think to talk so, while they were swimming in the sea at night, under the light of the moon, side by side.

But, what was the matter, after all? Wasn't this one of the innumerable reasons that made her so unique and so worthy of being loved? And to him, just to him, it was given the good fortune to love her! And to have her love in return!

Nevertheless... mh, nevertheless was it true, what she said to him? T'Pol was terribly stubborn, to the point of becoming ... well, yes ... becoming irrational, sometimes. And if now the two of them were doing what they were doing it was because...

Trip could not help but curse. T'Pol really was not wrong in saying that he was at fault.

She heard him, of course. She stopped and turned in the water to look at him. "What's the matter, Ashayam?"

Trip raised his hand from under the water to caress her face. "You were absolutely right, darlin'. I am at fault."

"Because you are what you are? This we have already taken for granted, but we have also said that, with my help, you can have some hope."

Trip could not help laughing heartily. Who knew if one day he would be able to get used to a T'Pol who made witticisms?

"No, no, T'Pol. The point is that - Trip frowned - I shouldn't have to bring you to that beach, knowing that, to come away from it, we would have to go by swimming."

T'Pol quirked her eyebrow. "Could you have foreseen that we would have to retrieve my sarong before the beach could become crowded again, because the lower part of my bikini would be lost as a result of my… _unforeseen_ performance?"

"Well, no, certainly. I ... Well, I had thought that we ... that the two of us ..."

"Could wait until the access road by land was again open, engaging the waiting time… nicely?"

"Uh... in a sense..."

T'Pol rubbed her thigh again against that of Trip. "And do you think that I might have something to say against such a manner to commit our waiting time?"

"Well, no." - Trip smirked, meaningfully. – "I do not think."

Trip was sure he was not mistaken. Actually in the voice of T'Pol sounded a note of blatant joy, of true mirth, while her eyes appeared to smile mischievously. Bluntly. "And you haven't deceived yourself, Ashayam. It is clear that the experience that you acquired in regard to my_ female_ needs, as you yourself have very eloquently expressed in the temporal patterning of these my needs you did last night, was not in vain. **(1)** So, as a final conclusion and despite my earlier statement, you do not have absolutely to feel at fault."

Trip laughed again and gladly followed T'Pol along the way she had undertaken. "Even if I haven't said anything to you about my intentions?"

The note of gaiety in T'Pol's voice became even more evident. And how they shone merry and mischievous, her eyes! "Ah, but wasn't this because - how do you say, you Humans? - you wanted to give me a surprise? Definitely not Vulcan, this is a fact; the concept of surprise is alien to the logic of my race. But ... I can't say that, on balance, it wasn't well-accepted by me."

"On balance?"

"Mh, maybe a little more than 'on balance.' "

The laughter of Trip rose up one more time over the sea.

"And then, let's not forget, T'hai'la. Although without wanting to do it on purpose, it's me the one who has complicated things."

"Okay, Hon. But you can not say that I am without fault. Think about how I have made fun of you..."

"On this side of your character, I will have to work hard. But, I'm not so sure I want it to really change. If it were happening to you such a… radical metamorphosis, you would no longer be the man you are, the Trip whom I..."

T'Pol stopped. She let her eyes speak for her.

Trip was speechless. T'Pol, his T'Pol, was without parallel! He tried to find again his voice, to say something. "Darlin'..."

T'Pol did not allow him to continue. She came even closer to him. They were as one only body floating in the water.

"And then, T'hai'la…"

To Trip's ears it rang with all clarity as a sort of dreamy note, now, in the voice of T'Pol.

"The end result of it all is that now we are here, Ashayam."

Something like a rapt sigh vibrated in her words.

"Here, at night, in this sea, placid and warm. Under..." - T'Pol squeezed the hand of Trip, from under the water – "...under this _fairytale_ moonlight."

* * *

Eventually they had almost made it. They had managed to get round slowly the barrier to access, by swimming, and now, finally, they were simply walking hand in hand along the shore. Well, not really. Along the sea bottom, a short distance from the beach line, in reality, but in such a way that only the upper part of their bodies were rising from the water. It was dark, it was late, there were no people here. But you never know. It would have been rather embarrassing to stand the look of someone who, in the moonlight, could notice the absence of the panties of T'Pol's bikini.

"Here we are, darlin'. Look there! Everything is still there in its place. Including your pareo."

T'Pol nodded in response. "You seemed pretty sure we would have found it."

"Here, on this beach, I mean, it is widespread, the habit of leaving things in the place occupied by you, ready to be used again the next day. It is very rare that they are taken away, unless they lie abandoned for a long time. Of course, there is some risk, but fortunately my predictions were not disappointed. Wait here. I will do it in a moment."

Trip jumped out of the water, and in an instant he was on the sarong and picked it up. - _(*There you are!*)_ - Sure, he could even have thought to reach it alone, leaving T'Pol waiting for him at that little beach; however, the idea of parting, leaving her alone there, had been simply unacceptable, indeed, it had not even touched the antechamber of his brain. And then - he smiled to himself as he ran towards the small figure waiting for him, still and quiet, at sea, in the glare of moonlight – not for anything in the world, he could give up the splendid, quiet, sweet, romantic swim that he and T'Pol had done to go back, side by side, under, as she, exactly she, had said, _the moon's fairytale light._

"Here, Honey. Put it on." T'Pol performed quickly and with her usual grace, with the help of Trip, without moving away from where she was.

And, finally, she was free to step out of the sea.

Now they were there, on the deserted beach. They looked at each other. Something ran between them. Trip tried to shake himself and T'Pol. He smiled gently. "Well, what do you say, sweetheart? The day - and night - had been long. Let's return to the hotel."

T'Pol nodded. Yes, the day and the night had been long and…eventful. It was definitely the case to go back to the hotel, to retire to their room and then, after a nice hot shower, go to sleep in their bed, close to each other.

On impulse, she took Trip's hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed it gently. "Thanks for the nice swimming lesson, Ashayam."

"Oh, ah ... but nothing, nothing, my love. It was..." - Trip took, in turn, the hand of T'Pol and, in turn, kissed it gently – "...it was my pleasure."

One more look, sweet and conspiratorial, between them. Trip then decided it was time to stop dilly-dallying.

He took T'Pol's arm under his arm, right in the fashion of a human couple, and began to lead her away.

T'Pol did not put up any resistance, indeed, she had to admit that the way, that human males had, to hook the arms of their women with their own arms... well, it was not bad at all. There was in this something softly intimate, like - sweet memories and visions crowded suddenly in the mind of T'Pol - in a neuropressure session.

But... "One moment." Trip stopped, and looked at her curiously. T'Pol leaned over and then rose with her sunglasses in her hand. "Okay, now we can actually go." And, of her own volition, she slipped her arm back under the arm of Trip.

Trip smiled and nodded. "Very well, Hon." And they headed towards the hotel.

* * *

"Well, we must say that the face of the concierge was priceless."

T'Pol turned in bed watching Trip. "Did you find it funny?"

Trip chuckled. "Well, you didn't, Hon?"

T'Pol quirked slightly her eyebrow. "I do not know. I do not understand the human humour."

Trip chuckled again, a little more loudly. He squeezed T'Pol's hand from under the sheet. "Ah, you don't, eh, darling?"

T'Pol returned the hand hold of Trip. "Do you doubt my words, T'hai'la?

"Never ever!" Trip's expression appeared as genuinely horrified. Then it became thoughtful. "Certainly, though, I do not understand how, before entering the elevator to get to our room, you've turned to look so intently at the concierge. You know, I even got the impression that you were smiling, in watching him."

T'Pol stared at Trip. A little flame danced in her eyes. "Jokes of the artificial light, Ashayam."

"Oh sure. Jokes." Trip chortled again. "Jokes of the artificial light, of course."

"But Trip." - T'Pol's face was deadly serious – "Really. How could I - I, T'Pol - have found something funny in the visage of the concierge? Simply because he did not seem to know which way he should turn and tried to hide what you could read in his face?"

Trip looked at T'Pol in the manner of T'Pol. "And what could it be read in his face?"

"Ah, I do not know. Maybe something as... - how would you say? - _But whence the hell are they coming, these two, at this time of night, in a bathing suit and all wet, in addition? And where bloody hell are they gone ending up, the whiskers of him? _"

Trip brought all of a sudden his hand to his lips Damn! It was true. He burst out laughing, then quickly pulled himself together. "Ah, here. Okay, now I understand. Of course it is unfortunate that you are so little able to read human expressions, as well as understand what can be found funny in them."

"Actually, it's really a shame. It would be extremely useful being able to do this."

"Yes, really. But you know what, darlin'?"

"What, Trip?"

Trip's hand rose, from under the bed sheet, to softly caress T'Pol's cheek. "I am convinced that you can have some hope."

Watching deadpan Trip, T'Pol cocked her head to fully savour the touch of his hand. "That's good. And…" - The unmistakable shadow of a smile hovered on T'Pol's lips. – "What should I do to make this hope fully flourish?"

Trip came closer to T'Pol and set down a tender kiss on her lips.

Then he drew back and looked at her with eyes bright and smiling. "This is my job."

T'Pol came closer to Trip, in her turn, and rubbed softly her lips against his. "I suppose I should answer: _I am lost_."

Trip laughed. Playfully. "Yes, darlin'. You're lost."

T'Pol did not answer, said nothing. She simply curled up well, very well, against Trip under the sheet.

For a while there was silence. Both were enjoying, fully and with delight, that precious freedom to be able to be the one for the other what they felt that they were and wanted to be.

But that they could no longer completely be, when they would return to _Enterprise_.

They both knew it.

And they both knew that the day would come for them to make a choice. For real.

Certainly, a sort of first step had been done, in reality. Nothing had been said clearly, neither the one nor the other had said: _Here, look, we love each other, we two are a couple in love._ Simply the two of them had decided to spend together the period of their Shore Leave. This, albeit in a way a little quaint and allusive, had been shown to the Captain, Malcolm Reed, Hoshi Sato, and this everyone else would know. **(1)**

Of course, everyone would be able to draw the conclusions, everyone would understand, but nothing, in reality, could be officially asserted.

And when they would return to _Enterprise_, they, to ensure that what was unofficial couldn't become official, jeopardizing careers of both, and forcing the Captain to drastic choices and inevitable, should unavoidably have to give up that wonderful fullness, should restrict that stupendous freedom to fully love each other in which they could bask now.

It was T'Pol who broke the silence. She shifted uncomfortably in the Trip's arms.

"Trip ..."

"Yes, babe?"

"I will miss all this, when we are back to _Enterprise_. I... will sigh for it."

"But, darling, it is not very Vulcan on your part what you..."

"It is not Vulcan, but it is quite true. Logic itself dictates that I realize and admit it."

Trip held his T'Pol strictly to him. "Yeah, my love."

His hand began to caress, almost without him being conscious, the cheek of T'Pol. "And my nostalgia won't be less than yours."

A few more minutes of silence. Then ...

"Trip?"

"Yes, babe?"

"_Enterprise_ is important to you."

Trip shifted in turn, not exactly at ease. He did not like that question in shape of statement by T'Pol. What did it mean? He spoke cautiously. "Well, of course."

"Extremely important."

"Sure, T'Pol, but why do you ask me things you already know?"

T'Pol sat up, leaning on one arm, to be free to look good at Trip. "More important than me?"

Trip nearly choked. He snapped to sit in turn. "What the hell..."

T'Pol silenced him, gently placing the fingertips of her hand across his lips. "If... you had to choose between _Enterprise_ and me, whom or what would you choose, T'hai'la?"

Trip understood. T'Pol needed him to say it to her with force and clarity. Vulcan or not, she needed it. And it didn't cost any effort to him to respond to her with what was the limpid truth. He stroked the tip of her delicious little nose with the tip of his index finger, and smiled tenderly at her.

He delivered a single word. "You."

T'Pol sighed. Very, very humanely. But there are things that are valid everywhere, that are universal. Like the sigh of happiness of a woman at being told to be loved, to be foremost in the minds of the man she loves.

She put herself again down, back on the bed, pulling Trip down with her, and resumed her peaceful and very rewarding position in his arms.

"Trip…"

"Eh no, babe!"

T'Pol shifted her head to look in surprise at Trip.

"Girl, enough now! Me too, I have some questions for you!"

T'Pol luxuriated blissfully in Trip's arms. She knew what he would ask her.

The question that T'Pol expected came immediately, and Trip's tone was cheerful, defiant, but a hint of apprehension could be felt. The answer of T'Pol would have the greatest value for him just as his answer had had the greatest value for her.

"And you, who or what would you choose, T'Pol?"

T'Pol decided that this could be the time to take some small revenge. After all, It had been just him who had taught her the meaning of 'to keep someone on a string', and if he had wanted to savour so many times the _subtle pleasure_ of doing this to her, why shouldn't she take advantage of the present favourable circumstance? What was that human adage? _He who makes his bed, must lie in it._

"You mean if I had to choose between you and _Enterprise_?"

"Well, of course."

"So you think that _Enterprise_ is very important for me?"

"Well, T'Pol... is not it?"

"Certainly. So the question deserves careful consideration."

"Eh? Hey, T'Pol!"

"Let's see. If I choose _Enterprise_, and you, as you said you would do, choose me, I'm supposed to live with the big problem to endure your constant bad mood, if we both stay on _Enterprise_."

"Eh? But T'Pol!"

"If I choose _Enterprise_, and you, as you said you would do, choose me, but, because of my choice, you decide to go away from _Enterprise_, the big problem would arise for me to live with the illogical disapproval the rest of the crew would show to me, in consequence of what would be considered by all as a very cold Vulcan way to behave."

"Hey!"

"As a result, on balance, I think that the most logical and rational choice would be you."

"Thank you! A lot!"

Well, that was enough, though. T'Pol did not like the expression of consternation on the face of her Trip. Adding up the figures, the pleasure that her little revenge had brought to her was not at all such to overcome the displeasure that was causing her the sight of him so dismayed and saddened.

She turned well in his arms to watch his visage with ease.

"Certainly, however, logic, the one true, manifests itself and acts in a much higher way than by such petty means, Ashayam."

And it was just so. And this, she, T'Pol, had learned just thanks to him, her Trip. There was a logic highest, noblest than the small logic of the cold and limited reasoning, than the trivial '_1 +1 = 2, 2 +2 = 4, 3 +3 = 6 ..._'.

There was a logic able to warm the heart, besides the mind.

T'Pol decided it was worth it to show this superior truth to her Trip with words and deeds. She was pretty sure that, in this way, his expression, which now was become very intent, would be changed again, would become extremely pleasant to observe, at least for her.

**First. **_First action._** – kiss – **A peck, small and slight, on his lips. Very satisfactory, including the abrupt and decidedly agreeable change in his expression.

**Second. **_Some words._ _Solemn, as it befits a true Vulcan._ _**–**_ "To live, we cannot do without air to breathe."

**Third.** _Second action._ Mh, maybe better more than only one action. And maybe better also if a little… deeper. **– kiss Kiss KISS – **Mh, yes. Much better.

**Four. **_Some other words, along the same lines of the first. To create a little more waiting, and to better introduce… the next action. __**–**_ "To live, we cannot do without water to quench our thirst."

**Five.** _Third action._ Mh? One or more than one? One, one only, this time, but significantly _deepe_r. Yes. **– KISS! – **Ah, very good choice. Extremely satisfactory, also because of the equal and contrary (and deep alike) reaction elicited in him.

**Six.** _Again a few words, great and solemn, vibrating with logic. Although ... well, although, to tell the truth, he seemed to be definitely more interested in actions than in words, now. __**–**_ "To live, we cannot do without food for our sustenance."

**Seven.** _Fourth action._ Again, one only, and once again definitely deep. The previous one, had been exceedingly satisfactory, so why give it up? But ... mh, but ... why not also try to make it last a little longer? **– KISSSSSSS! – **Ah, perfect! Definitely ... yes, definitely _more_ than satisfactory. A little hard to stop, partly because of his reaction increasingly active and participating, but ... how would he say? To lick one's moustache!

**Eight.** _Now the logical conclusion from the preceding sentences. Obviously she should talk in such a way that he can feel that the climax is coming. __**–**_ "It would be totally devoid of logic thinking to be able to do without these things."

**Nine.** _Now the action, again._ But, stop kisses. Now he hadn't to be distracted._ (*Take his face in your hands. Stare into his eyes. Eat him with your eyes, full of love! Just like that. Yeah, so. Oh, Surak, how beautiful you are in this way, Ashayam! With those blue eyes waiting in anxiety for penetrating where I'm going to go, for comprehending the meaning of my words and deeds.*)_

**Ten.**_ (*Tell it, now, T'Pol! Begin to make him understand!*) __**– **_"For me, to live, there's something, _someone_, more indispensable than air, water, food. That's a matter of fact, and denying it, it would be absolutely off logic."

**Eleven. **_Action, action!__(*Hug him! Cling to him! Make him feel how much he is indispensable to you!*) - Like that! LIKE THAT! __**LIKE THAT!**_

**Twelve.**_ (*Here you are. Here we go. Clasp him strongly and talk at the same time. Plan and softly. With your lips on his skin.*) __**– **_"So, what sort of logical Vulcan woman could I ever be, if I were thinking, illogically, irrationally, insanely, to be able to do without this someone?"

**Thirteen.**_The point.__** - **__(*Now look at him. Watch him very well, while you say it to him, T'Pol. He mustn't have doubts.__Mustn't have doubts, ever again.*)__** – **_"Without you?"

T'Pol plainly understood to have fulfilled her purpose, to have fully reached her goal.

Why? Because Trip did not speak, said nothing, almost seemed to want to avoid her gaze; however, he turned belly up in the bed with his face to the ceiling, like a man at peace with himself and the world. _As if __**he**__ were finally at peace._ He pressed her strongly against himself and sighed loudly, and T'Pol, curled up against him, her head resting softly on his chest, heard well his sigh and felt well the relief, joy, peace, which permeated it.

And she wrapped herself in that peace and she, too, felt at peace, finally, fully, with herself and with the world.

Finally she had made it. Finally.

Finally had admitted it.

Finally had said it to him.

Sure, the two of them were there, now, sharing the bed.

Sure, she had accepted that they two were a couple, already before, even if, and only after that, she had played so long and so irresponsibly with his feelings. She had already told him clearly that she loved him, even if not with the words that a human woman would use. She had not said _I love you_, however, she had said it to him. Oh really she had told it! And how! And how much!

But now she had told him even more. She had told - finally – that her heart would beat madly for him… _forever_. That she could never do without him. Neither now or ever.

And he, with all his intelligence, his acumen, his insight, would not even have imagined how much this was true.

She was not, and would never been, the T'Pol that she had been. The old balance that had governed her life had been broken, it was shattered, and only in him, with him, for him, she could have a new equilibrium. The emotions he had aroused inside her, and that had so frightened her; that she - for him - had wanted to accept, discover, enjoy; those emotions could settle into her without destroying her, without annihilating her, only thanks to him: in him, for him, with him.

So - really - she could not do without him.

Without him, she was lost.

But this wasn't all, because the really important thing, the fact that settled things once and for all, was that she wanted things to be this way. She did not want to regain her old balance, did not want to become once again the T'Pol of a past time. It would not have been hard to do it, it would have been enough to resort to the Vulcan mental practices; but, so, she would have found her old self and would have lost him.

Then, even in this case, she would have been lost, because, what would have been her life with the old herself and without him? What would have been her life without his love? What would be served returning to be the T'Pol of a past time for then getting lost, in this way? Without love and without joy?

And the jokes? This elusive, indefinable, wonderful Human Mood, that she - in him, with him, for him - could understand, and enjoy, and exercise?

How could she now do without this Human Mood? Without this wealth, of spirit and mind, unknown to the other Vulcans, that made her feel so strong, so well, so free?

Without it, without _**his own**_, unique, Human Mood, now she would be lost. And once again, she could be able to get not lost, only relying on him.

And finally - beside all this, _before and well ahead of all this_ - there was… her heart beating madly for him.

And without him, her heart would beat to the point to get broken.

And she would have been lost.

No, she could not do without him. Neither now or ever.

Without him, she was lost. Forever lost.

And the only way she wanted to get lost, was getting lost in him.

Finally she had understood it. Finally she had admitted it. Finally she felt at peace.

With the world.

And with herself.

The long, magical silence that followed T'Pol's words was broken by Trip.

His voice resounded strong and cheerful, even a little too much, to be honest, almost as if he wanted to tone down a little bit the atmosphere.

"Well, Hon, at this point, since we know that sooner or later the time will come and that our choice will be univocal and concordant, maybe we could even think of choosing where to live, when we no longer can think of _Enterprise_ as… as of our home."

His hand was moving slow and gentle to caress her cheek.

"You understand, Darlin'. The two of us are children of two different worlds. What will be our new home? Our house? And who knows, if fate and you want to, of..."

"Of our children, Trip?"

The voice of Trip dropped to a whisper. "Yes, T'Pol."

A flood of memories flooded T'Pol's mind.

It had been in their third night of love. A long time ago. Her life had become a whirlwind and she was overwhelmed. And in his arms, while waiting for a sleep which never came, her soul had gotten lost in the thinking of where the two of them could find the peace and the freedom to be able to live together their dream of love, even if, at that time, she could not even imagine that, really, one day -_ now_ - both he and she could think of how to realize such a dream.

She remembered.

First she had thought Earth, the land of his birth, his homeworld. Obviously it had been her first choice, the natural option of her mind. It had been her, the one who had seduced him, who had done the first, _substantial_, step. She could not even think of saying: _Okay, I have wanted you, I got you, I've had you, and now, to complete the work, since I want to have you forever, leave everything - life, family, affection, friends, work, habits, history, traditions - and come away with me on my planet. _Even in the obfuscation that then dominated her mind and particularly that night, she had realized that such an option was unacceptable, no, inconceivable. And so... on Earth, yes, there. The... the wife - because this she felt being - would follow the husband, in the best traditions of both Earth and Vulcan.

The astonishing, highly efficient, Vulcan brain of T'Pol was able to retrace with absolute precision, sentence by sentence, word by word, the flow of thoughts that had stirred inside her, at the idea of going to live with him on Earth. **(2)**

_**oooooooooooooooooooo**_

_[Earth will become my homeland, yes. I will go proudly to it, following the destiny of my man._

_Yes, yes. I will walk next to him, triumphant and happy, ignoring..._

_...ignoring the disapproval which will surround us._

_I, a Vulcan woman... the mate of his life. No one of his countrymen will approve. No one will understand. A halo of distrust and of animadversion will encircle us, and he... he will no longer have friends, maybe... maybe not even a job. Starfleet won't allow us to be... to be...]_

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

The dejection that had gripped T'Pol that night, when she had realized what living together on Earth would have brought the two of them, had it been such that even now, despite all that had happened, despite the vast and deep amount of changes that had taken place in her, in him, in the universe, she felt herself again grasped by that despondency and couldn't help but remember perfectly how her mind, desperately looking for a solution, had ended up to deceive itself again.

_**oooooooooooooooooooo**_

_[Oh, but what does that matter? What does count? I... I know, yes, I know for sure that my man shall care nothing of all that! I...saw it in his eyes, in his face. In his expression, his posture. His deportment, his behaviour._

_I heard it in his voice, in his words. In his tone._

_He wants me, he... how would he say?... doesn't give a damn about Starfleet, and homeworld, and friends, and job... He - Oh, I know! I am sure! - he will give up everything for me!_

_And then... why should we live on Earth? There is Vulcan, too. My own homeworld. If my mate has to leave all that was his previous life to stay with me, why shouldn't we choose to live on Vulcan?_

_He is clever, smart, skilful, adaptable, resilient. His mind is open, he is highly capable of learning, of making himself well accepted to everyone. Oh yes, sure! Even..._

_... even to my countrymen. To my cold, disdainful, supercilious countrymen. To my countrymen, so scornful toward Humans. And... and who will very contemptuously behave toward me. With me, who has dared defy the High Command, and, not content, has dared become the mate of a Human man. And has dared to bring him to Vulcan, and to display him, in open air, as the man who has me, to whom I belong._

_The mate I have chosen._

_A Human. Not a Vulcan._

_In despite of all our traditions, our beliefs, our convictions. In spite of my betrothal, made in accord with our customs. In spite of everything._

_I will become a pariah, in my homeland, and I will condemn my man to the same fate.]_

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

Two pariahs, two outcasts, yes, she and he. So ...

_**oooooooooooooooooooo**_

_[There must be a solution, there must be._

_And if he and I, both of us, give up both our homelands? Another world, foreign, distant, virgin, willing to welcome us, to... to accept such a strange couple._

_There has to be such a world, it must exist. A world where we can live, together, without shame and without concerns, where we may be able to have a free life, to have... to have children, if it might be possible, uncaring of their... of their being different._

_Oh yes yes yes! That's the remedy, the solution. We will live for ourselves, we have no need of anything else._

_That's the logical answer to all of our problems._

_Logical, yes. Logic wants this, as much as the same logic dictates that I can no longer stay without him!_

_It's logical, it's logical, it's..._

_Logical? LOGICAL?]_

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

Oh yes, very logical! Really! Even then, even in her confusion, and although for reasons very different from those that could count now, she had come to realize, almost angrily, the illogicality of her so-called logical solution.

And now? Now, or rather, when the time would come, - _and it would come_ - what could have been the solution really logical?

"Hon?"

What she now had almost got to consider as her true name, shook T'Pol. Her Trip called her back to the reality of this night, this _present_ night; she should not get lost in the distant, gone by, wholeness of that other night.

"Trip?"

"You know, Hon." - The voice of her Trip was low, thoughtfully. – "This is not the first time that I think of it, I mean of where the two of us could think to live the day when we have to decide. Think..." - A titter, a little forced, it seemed to T'Pol – "...think that such thoughts stirred within me from the very beginning of our relationship. I can also tell you exactly when. In our third night of love."

T'Pol's eyes widened in amazement. In their third night of love! Just when she too had had these thoughts!

But how much... She drew close even more to her Trip ... how much were they - really! - one thing? How powerful was the Bond that linked them? Evidently far beyond what could be possible not only to suppose, but even imagine!

Katra of Surak! How could she ever have thought it might be possible not to get tied to him? The two of them .. the two of them were really one body and one mind!

She concentrated. She did not want to - did not have to! - miss absolutely nothing of what her - _**her, her, her!**_ - Bond-Mate was telling her.

She curled up in his body and in his soul. In his speaking. Her whole Katra became arched with keen alertness.

"My first thought was for Earth, darling. Forgive me if I have not thought about Vulcan in the first instance, but... well, babe... you know well the narrow limits of my poor brain."

_(*Narrow, T'hai'la? Narrow? That's why you never gave up hope? Namely, that, one day, finally I could understand? That's why you never ceased to fight? Is it because your brain, your mind, is narrow?*)_

"But, even with these narrow limits, it took a nanosecond to realize the idiocy of such an idea. What sort of welcome could we have had on Earth? Acceptation? Benevolence? In the best of hypothesis we would have been ostracized, if not hated. A Vulcan woman, a member of such a bumptious race, all but liked by Humans, life-mate of a Human man. Vulcan... Vulcan whore could have been the appellative to which you could have been forced to become inured, if I know a little bit my civil countrymen. And me? What kind of behaviour toward me should I have had to expect from my sympathetic and open-minded fellow-citizens? Not to mention Starfleet."

T'Pol would have wanted to say to him that he was wrong, that the fears he had harboured about how his compatriots could accept the idea that he and she could live together on Earth as a veritable couple, was unfounded, did not correspond to reality, but she knew it was not, that he was right, and she knew also how much he hated, and rightly so, falsehood.

"So what, Honey? Oh to hell, I thought! But what the hell could Starfleet have mattered to me? And Earth? I had you, my treasure, you! So… Vulcan. Yes. Vulcan. Your homeland. I would have followed you on your world, to live with you. My friends? My job? My family? My home? Hell! There are things against which any life project one can have done is fated to fade away, as moonlight when it comes sunlight. And my sunlight were - is - you, T'Pol."

T'Pol was listening, as if she were immersed in a cloud. In her mind, in her heart, she had said it to herself, that night, that he would have been willing to give up everything for her, and now she was learning from his own lips that it was just so, that her marvellous K'diwa had thought of doing it, and this, just while she had been thinking that he would be willing to do so.

"So, Vulcan. Sure. Your own homeworld, my new homeworld. It wouldn't be easy, but I... was tough." - Trip let out a giggle full of irony. Of bitter self-irony. T'Pol was perfectly able to sense it. – "Such, at least, I wanted to think that I was."

_(*Tough? No, I do not think that this term is able to render not even a little bit what you really are, my so-said narrow-minded Ashayam. My immensely tough, big, strong Ashayam.*)_

"And then, after all, I would have had your help."

_(*All my help, T'hai'la. And all my Vulcan heart.*)_

"Your help. Yeah. Sure. But would you be yet well accepted on your world, after the challenge you had thrown to the High Command? Couldn't you be regarded almost... almost as a rebel? And a rebel who had dared tie herself to a Human man, and dared to bring him - me - on her homeland as her life mate. No. Impossible. We couldn't live there."

The sadly ironic chuckle, was heard again. "Oh, I know, I know, Hon. No doubt, what I'm telling you of what I had thought, is making me looking like a damn fool. See a little, to what kind of idiot you have made a gift of yourself!"

_(*So, not only far from being really tough, at least in your judgment, but also stupid, in addition! Oh sure, definitely! How stupid you are, my T'hai'la! But how could you think that what you thought was real? Stupid, stupid my Ashayam. __**Who had it all figured out**__! Just as the clever, smart, sensitive man that you are!*)_

"Anyway, so I thought things were. So what? What could remain for us? Provided ... provided I wasn't grossly deceiving myself about your feelings towards me."

_(*No! No no! You were not deceiving yourself at all, T'hai'la!*)_

"Well, I thought, space is filled with lots of beautiful worlds; there must be one of them, where we can live our life and our love."

_(*One mind, one soul. You and I this we are, Ashayam. I would never have believed - before tonight, before you told me about all this - that this were true up to this point.*)_

Trip stopped for a moment, as if he were gathering his ideas. His voice sounded even more pensive when he spoke again.

"Could this be true, Hon? I mean, our eventual homeland, could it be a totally new homeland? I mean, not your true homeland or mine? Would it be possible for us to forget everything that we were and we could have been, I, on Earth, and you, of Vulcan, and… and…"

Trip stopped again. It seemed that he did not know how to continue, but T'Pol knew that it was not so. It was true, he was not a man of long speeches, but when he decided, he felt it was appropriate to speak, he spoke. And well. And for a long time, too, if it was the case.

And if now - right now - he'd stopped talking ... T'Pol knew exactly why.

So, she understood it was time also for her to speak.

She sat up and squatted sitting on the bed next to him.

She needed him to see her face clearly, while she was telling him what it had come the moment to say.

"Trip, tonight I have finally decided to make it clear to you that I can not do without you, that never ever I will be able to live without you. The... logic itself, if my heart was not enough, requires it."

Trip was absolutely quiet. Motionless. One could say _inert_. But his eyes, not. They were very alive. And extraordinarily attentive.

T'Pol stretched out her hand, as if she wanted to touch those eyes, but she stopped, as if she had not the courage to do so. How beautiful they were, those blue eyes, which watched her, in the anxious waiting to know what she would say!

"And you think that, against all logic, against ... this deepest feeling that I feel for you, could it be possible that I do not wish to give you children?"

Trip's hand snapped to grasp that of T'Pol. Her little, delicate hand got lost, happy, in the great, callous hand of Trip.

"I want to give you children, Ashayam."

"T'Pol ..."

"I do not know if this will ever be possible, although... although Lorian is ... was ... no, hopefully, he _**is**_ still proof that this is possible. But, in any case, I want it, Trip. I want it with all my logic. And with all my heart."

Trip could not answer, could not flood T'Pol with all the powerful flow of unspeakable joy that T'Pol's words had unleashed within him.

The look, suddenly - unequivocally - sad of her, stopped him.

"But if I can not give you children, my T'hai'la, you ... you..."

Trip jumped to sit and clenched tightly to him his T'Pol, with all the strength of his love.

"I will always love you, T'Pol."

He heard her sigh, happy, hugged to him.

They stood so, embraced each other for a few moments. Trip then burst into laughter.

T'Pol reluctantly pulled away from him and looked at him, her eyebrow raised, in the expression: _what the hell is wrong with you?_

Trip laughed again and threw himself again lying on the bed, dragging her and holding her again embraced.

"Okay, okay, okay. But ultimately, babe, where the hell will we go to live, the two of us, when the time comes?"

T'Pol immediately adapted to the change of route of the tone of Trip. He was right. They had to find an answer and also avoid being overwhelmed by emotions. Strange it was him, not her, to try to tone down, to recall in his own way the two of them to the need to contain emotions, but in reality, it was not so strange. T'Pol now was well aware of the unexpected (for those who, meeting him for the first time, were primarily impressed by his character - how to say? - a wee bit exuberant) ability of control which he possessed, but there was something else which she had become aware of. It was as if it had been established between them a tacit agreement: when the intensity of the emotions she was feeling - and that Trip felt perfectly well that she was feeling - reached for what could be a dangerous level of alert, he, even saying nothing explicitly, was however as if was telling her: _'that's enough, danger, red alert , return to do the perfect Vulcan'_.

It could be a witticism, a joke, a nonsense purposely said, or a sudden and unexpected laugh, an abrupt shift in the way he was acting and speaking, as now. Basically he was saying to her: '_he_y, _Hon, do the serious person, do the Vulcan. And be you to lead things exactly the way you should do', _because he knew that this was her own good. As always he behaved in order to protect her, without embarrassing her. In the way that only he knew, he always protected her.

She settled down very well again in his arms. Okay, he wanted her to resume the leadership of the talk? _Her_ - something that seemed a giggle burst out inside her - _to do the serious person? _Agreed. Go on, then_. _ "Very well, T'hai'la, let's see a little. I think, first of all, we must think of our eventual children."

"Which means?"

"Whether we can have them or not, it is needed, however, that we have the most care of their good. We must care about their future. "

"Well, of course. So?"

"The place where we're going to live, has to be safe and comfortable for them."

"Obvious."

"We, in one way or another, will be able to adapt to a new planet, indeed it could be for us the best solution, but it would be right for them..."

"…put them in an environment so alien to us and, therefore, to them? That's what you mean?"

"Yes, Trip. The lack of knowledge and familiarity, generates dangers, and even more so if you think that they would be… new creatures."

"New… creatures!?"

"The first examples of something entirely new, the children of a Human male and ..."

"A Vulcan female."

"Yes, and therefore even more alien, more _foreign_, in the eyes of the world, than how we two might appear. And we both are well aware of the malice that people, wherever you are, often, if not always, destines to what, to whom…"

"…is foreign."

"Yes, Trip."

"Damn, Hon! We can't make such a choice!"

"No."

"No, absolutely no, Hon."

Well, one couldn't say that the reasoning of T'Pol were not absolutely wise and full of logic. On the other hand - Trip grinned to himself - when ever his sweetheart, could not make wise reasonings and devoid of logic? But there was something... Mh. Something was omitted.

T'Pol, to want a closer look, was an adventurous spirit and all one could say about her except that she was not able to deal with - and dominate - difficult situations, even so hard that no one else would be able to face and handle.

Guys! But she was the one who had dared to embark - alone, the only one of her kind - with a horde of primitive Humans, or, at least, that was what she thought of them at that time. And she had been perfectly able to tackle and dominate this horde. In fact, to tell the truth - the internal grin of Trip became accentuated not a little - she had also gone quite a bit further.

So what? How was it possible that she was afraid of not being able to manage the education of any of their children on a planet that was not ...

Suddenly, Trip realized.

_A planet that was not Vulcan._ Not Earth, no. But Vulcan. Of course, T'Pol would never have dared to tell him this, in fact she would never dare say it clearly even to herself, but that was the reason. Why? But because she was a Vulcan, special, as you like, but still a Vulcan.

She did not want their children to grow up and live on an alien world because ... because she wanted them to grow up and live on Vulcan. She was tied deeply to her homeworld. She was so, precisely, for the simple fact that she was Vulcan. Even if unconsciously, she could not think that the world where their children would grow up, couldn't be Vulcan.

She would never have made it clear to him, she could not risk appearing so unfair to him, but it was so.

And it was just that it was so, because, if she had not felt this desire, this need, she would no longer be a real, albeit special, Vulcan, and he, Trip, would never have forgiven himself that, because of him, she had changed to the point of no longer being an authentic Vulcan .

He loved her deeply for what she was. He could never love a T'Pol different from T'Pol.

What she said, almost timidly, just at that moment, made it clear to Trip that he had hit the mark.

"And then, T'hai'la, how could we educate our children, really, according to ..."

"Our traditions? You mean this, Hon?"

"Yes, Trip. Strong roots make the tree strong, Ashayam. I feel that it would be unfair not to transmit to them the teachings of our ancestors, the deep strength of our heritage, and, alone, in a foreign environment, we would not be able to do so."

_Sweet, splendid, wonderful, Vulcan T'Pol! (*Okay, my love. You deserve this and more!*)_

He hugged her strongly to him. He spoke with the most gleeful of voices. "As usual, Darling, you're not wrong. Okay. Vulcan then!"

T'Pol jumped to sit up and turned her face down toward him. The most incredulous of glances shone in her eyes. "Trip! I did not mean that!"

Trip laughed heartily and pulled her down on his chest. "But I do!"

T'Pol struggled to extricate herself from his embrace. She pulled herself up again. She looked at him half in disbelief half almost annoyed. "Trip, there is not only Vulcan and its history, its traditions. My roots. There are at stake also your roots. There is also Earth. Your homeworld. _Your homeland!_"

"My homeland, T'Pol?"

"Yes, Trip. Your ..."

And, at that point, T'Pol suddenly stopped.

It was hard for her to bear his look as she realized.

She remembered his words when, on returning from the _Expanse_, he had told her that he didn't know, after all, where to go. She had taken the opportunity to invite him to Vulcan without giving much to see that she wanted him to go there with her.

But at that time she didn't know everything there was to know about him. Now, yes.

Now she knew.

And she felt deeply guilty.

But Trip's eyes shone of cheerfulness again. He gazed at her with joy. "Darlin', you know. My homeland is you."

Just like that. It was the case to say: fortunately, just like that. Because he ... actually ... it was a non-homeland. He loved Earth and was even willing to die for it and for its sons, but beyond that ...

Probably, or, perhaps certainly, he would be willing to do the same for Vulcan, which, thinking well about it, he most likely loved more than Earth, because it had given to him T'Pol. And if Andoria had required it, he would answer to its call. He would answer to the call of any world that were threatened by war or injustice. But for the rest ...

He had never been able to have roots. His family ... honestly, it was nothing for him for .. for many reasons. The only one who had really counted for him had been ... had been his sister. Who was no longer there. And this, to think of it, had given the final, definitive cut to his weak roots. Friends? But had he really friends? Malcolm, probably, and - but it was really still the case? - John. And Oshi, maybe. Perhaps, in a sense, even Phlox. And Anna Hess? Perhaps, some way. But there, on Earth, he had no friends, or rather, true friends. It was easy for him to gain the sympathies of anyone with his exuberance, but what was his exuberance if not the reflection of his loneliness, which only T'Pol had been able to fill with her sublime presence? With the fulness of her love?

It was true, she had made him suffer, but only because she was defenceless and unprepared in the face of something that was outside of all she knew, that wasn't her quiet world. The effort that she had to do to take the plunge had been such that she had almost gotten lost. He knew it, even though he knew that she did not know that he knew, and only if she had found the courage to tell him what he knew, he - maybe, just maybe - would have told her that he knew. **(3)** This effort on her part was something that went beyond any possible debt of gratitude that he could ever think to extinguish towards her.

So what? Didn't she deserve whichever sacrifice on his part?

End then, actually, wanting to be perfectly honest, what was Earth for him? The place where he was born. Nothing more. He was a free spirit, he felt himself a citizen of the Universe. It had not been very difficult for him to leave everything behind, when he had embarked on _Enterprise_.

And he didn't... didn't feel he had a home that was not _Enterprise_. Then, when _Enterprise_ could no longer be his home, why not think of his home as the home of the woman who had become everything for him? His landing land? His true home?

T'Pol was his home, his landing land. His landing place. And where she had been, he would have been at home.

And he said it to her. With force. With all the puissance of his love.

"Where you are, T'Pol, there it's my home."

T'Pol did not oppose the tears of joy that welled up, sudden, in her eyes.

* * *

"Ah, how would you say, baby? Extremely satisfactory."

T'Pol did not waste herself even to lift her eyebrow. She just restricted herself to a mere and quiet: "Exactly." However, it was true, all this was really extremely satisfactory, indeed even more than that. Perhaps it would be more correct to judge it, just like her T'hai'la would have done, _simply wondrous_.

The sun was already high, shining in the early morning sky and illuminating the sea with bright golden glares and their room with fresh light, through the window wide open on the day which was beginning.

As soon as Trip had seen the gleam of tears in T'Pol's eyes, he had decided that it was absolutely necessary for him to provide that those tears disappear, and she had found herself in complete agreement with him. Tears were something quite unbecoming for a Vulcan. Any means that would serve the purpose, was not only welcome, but entirely appropriate, in order to eliminate this unfortunate and un-Vulkan-like inconvenience. If then, the means to which to resort, had a great amount of… decidedly positive aspects, all the better.

The well-known search for perfection that Trip put into anything he had to undertake, in concert with the well-known perfectionism and the well-known fussiness that every Vulcan (and T'Pol was no exception) places in turn in the performance of their own tasks (especially if these tasks are pleasant), had made it so that it had been needed a suitable, and not brief, lapse of time for the eyes of T'Pol to come back satisfactorily dry.

The logical consequence of the quest for perfection of Trip, together with perfectionism and fussiness of T'Pol, not neglecting the fact that when they had returned to their hotel room it was already very late and the conversation that had led to the odious presence of tears in the eyes of T'Pol was rather of long duration, was that when both, after… several afterthoughts, had concurred that the eyes of T'Pol was sufficiently dry, the sun, from a not too scarce period of time, had already abandoned its bed to leave it to the moon.

"Bloody Hell, Malcolm would say! We need a corroborant breakfast! And... well, after all, we are in shore leave. A little healthy lust, it takes!"

So Trip had talked.

Then he had merrily barked over the intercom. "Room 602. Breakfast in bed. Strictly vegetarian, but extremely abundant. And with a lot of strong coffee and tea with chamomile. Oh, I forgot. Ten, no, twelve slices of pecan pie."

Ten minutes or so had passed, and both took care to make sure that the eyes of T'Pol were actually quite dry. Then a discreet knock at the door.

"YES?"

"Breakfast, sir."

"VERY WELL. LEAVE IT BEHIND THE DOOR. Mh, I think I see a tear yet. It takes a little more of work. Do you agree, babe? Yes? I was sure."

After a little more of intensive work, Trip finally had decided it was time to go to get the breakfast at the door.

"Okay, I think that your eyes are dry, finally. If it is necessary, we will return to work on this, shall we?"

T'Pol had nodded convinced.

"Alright, babe. Now, the breakfast."

Said and done. A leap, a somersault, and Trip, naked as a jaybird, had reached the door. He had opened it, just a crack. He had ascertained that there was no one outside. He had opened it completely, had stooped to pick up the tray, well-replete, that the waiter had left, had lifted the tray in his hands, had turned around, had closed the door with a flick of the heel.

Then, with the most buccaneerish of smiles on his face... "Okay, babe. Authentic Earth lust, now."

He had reached T'Pol, she too so naked that more one could not be, in bed. He had placed the tray on the bed next to them, as she had sat up, cross-legged, to make room for the tray and for him, who had now sat at her side, with his legs dangling.

And so she had had the opportunity to enjoy the pleasure of a luxurious veritable earth breakfast, in bed.

In a bed of love.

They had chatted - small babblings and slight and nice, babblings of sweethearts; had exchanged effusions - effusions of sweethearts. They had put in their mouths - to one another, reciprocally - pieces of pecan pie.

In an intimacy that filled their hearts.

As the sun slowly had risen and gone up, and its warm light and naughty had played with increasing immodesty on their naked bodies.

Until both, together, had reached the conclusion that it was enough, that they could consider themselves as decidedly satisfied.

And that it had been _extremely satisfactory_. Or better, how, without saying so, T'Pol had thought: _simply wondrous_.

Trip took the tray and placed it on the floor next to the bed, manoeuvring so that he had not to get up. He brushed the sheets with his hands, to sweep away the crumbs.

He watched for a moment the result of his efforts with a critical eye. Mh, not really clean, the bed, but - he shrugged his shoulders - so be it.

On the other hand - he looked sideways at the Vulcan half of himself - it seemed to him that she, at that particular juncture, didn't make any special exhibition of the well-known - and obsessive - mania for hygiene and for cleanliness that characterized her and those damned compatriots of hers.

Actually - Trip allowed himself a teasing smile - she seemed quite relaxed, in that predicament, or should he think that her having positioned herself supine on the bed, one leg upon the other, with her arms folded behind her nape, her head idly resting on them, just as he would have done, absolutely at ease, with a clear expression of satisfied quietness on her face, it could mean something other than a _'ah! How wonderful!' _?

Trip positioned himself on the bed beside her, taking exactly her same stand, and T'Pol, immediately rolled to curl very well against him. Well, Trip smiled to himself, it seemed that this particular position was decidedly to her liking. Whatever it was, frankly, he had no objection in this regard.

"All right, babe?"

No response. Only a very satisfied "Mh."

"Well, well. I'm happy. Okay, then, at this point, with the belly deliciously full, and with ... Well yes, I mean ... with ... I mean ..."

"Mh?"

"Darling, I think that at this point we can think to put the dots on the i."

"Mh. Mh?"

"Ah, sorry. I want to say set up the last details."

"Mh. Mh mh. Mh?"

"Let me explain."

"Mh."

"Let's summarize. We decided that on the day in which we will be sick of playing on _Enterprise_ the role of simple colleagues in public and of lovers in private, we shall go away together, bag and baggage, from _Enterprise_, to be what we are, both in private and in public."

"Mh, yes."

"We also decided that, when the time comes, we will go to live on Vulcan. A bit too hot for my taste, to be honest, and with a few too many deserts, but undoubtedly full of beautiful and wild attractions. I will adapt."

"Trip..."

"C'mon, babe, c'mon, let us face it, you'll be much more at ease in the education of children, there."

"It is true. But what about you?"

"I will see to work to make sure that their human side won't be overlooked, and am I wrong, honey, if I think you're going to help me?"

"No, absolutely not, T'hai'la, but..."

"And then, Hon, if we are to judge by Lorian, it is very likely that our children will tend to be very Vulcan, even if being at the same time also Human. It would be unfair to deprive them of the advantages of being Vulcans in all respects."

"Yes, but..."

"Trip's voice dropped in tone, became serious. "Hon, it is not a matter of cultural superiority, but, that's a fact, your people have changed, are attempting to do so. With strength and determination, with suffering, after the political and cultural earthquake that shook your planet and all of you Vulcans as a result of the discovery of the deception perpetrated by your leaders and of the retrieving of the Summa of Surak's works, your people are trying to open themselves to others, to improve, and now there is perhaps a greater possibility that we may be accepted on Vulcan than on Earth, above all if you think that on Earth..."

T'Pol shook Trip's hand.

Trip drew a deep sigh.

"On Earth, Hon, and you too know it, it seems, thick shadows are gathering. A strong feeling of xenophobia is emerging, more vehement than in the past, as a result of what happened with the Xindi, and the indifference that your people has shown in this situation makes..."

"Makes my people – me - strongly disliked to ordinary people of Earth, and most likely not only ordinary, now more than in the past."

"Yes, Hon."

"Trip, this can also be true, but ..."

"I know my fellow men, T'Pol. I am one of them. Humans are a great people, but their emotions are intense and longer lasting, more than those of Vulcans in a sense. And they have no intention to control them, nor can they. Humans live together with their emotions, sometimes dominating them, sometimes being dominated by them. Many will love us and will want to protect us, but many, very many, will hate us and will want to..."

"Ostracize us?"

"At a minimum."

"At… a minimum?"

"At a minimum, Darlin', yes. And Humans are ingenious, T'Pol, and determined. Relentless. It is very hard to..."

"Arrest them, I know. This is your greatness."

"But it is also our curse."

"T'hai'la…"

"Oh, that's enough!" - Trip's voice crackled again of cheerfulness. A little forcibly, perhaps? – "But look a little! Definitely Humans are completely illogical, and, I'm sorry for you, my peppermint, I am the champion."

_Peppermint._ That's was new. "Glad you finally admit it, Ashayam. Evidently there really is some hope for you, thanks to my influence. But, in particular, to what are you referring, now?"

"Well, I hadn't a great esteem for Vulcans, and, you see, I fell in love with a Vulcan female. But, oh T'Pol, if you could see her! You would understand that it was not possible for me not to fall madly in love with her!"

T'Pol wasn't sure she managed to completely hide from her T'hai'la the fizzing of pleasure she had, at his joke.

"And then, as if this were not enough, I also agreed with this Vulcan witch to live with her on Vulcan, that infernal furnace of a desert planet, even defending this choice a little against her. If this is not illogical! A nice obstacle course, my life, do not you think?

"Obstacle course?"

"Forget it, Hon. Let's stop here."

T'Pol settled down even better, with fulfilled enjoyment, in the natural alcove of the arms of her Trip, very well against his muscular body, fragrant of his resistless scent.

"Okay, K'Diwa."

"No, there is one thing yet. The last detail. Far from negligible, however."

T'Pol looked up at the face of Trip, who, she realized, was in turn looking at her with a sly expression.

Now what? What had he in mind, that scallywag of her T'hai'la?

"Ten could be fine?"

T'Pol was not sure that she had understood, but perhaps she had understood even too well. "Ten… what?"

"But children, of course! What else, otherwise?"

"Ten… children?"

"Well, yes I know, they are not really a lot, but, you know, considering that the experience I had with my family has been not exactly agreeable, I think it's best that we limit ourselves a little."

Now T'Pol had her head well raised, and she was staring him in the face, trying to hide her uncertainty. She had to believe him or not?

"Trip, ten children are not few."

"No?"

"No. They are ... a little too much."

"Mh, yeah, maybe it's true. I forgot that Vulcan families have not many children. Nine? How about nine?"

"Trip, one or two may be enough."

"One or two?" - Trip's voice seemed horrified. He rolled his eyes. – "Let's not joke, T'Pol! At least eight!"

"Trip, I ... I'm not sure ..."

"That we can make it? Come on, T'Pol, do not underestimate yourself." - A mischievous glint in his eyes. – "And I do not think you can doubt me."

"Well no, no, of course." - But what was happening? Really she and Trip were discussing the number of their children? And he really wanted to ...? - "Let's make ... let's make two, Trip."

"Oh, what the heck. Seven!"

"Th ... three."

"Six."

"Four."

"Five"

"Ashayam..."

"Five. Not less. Do you concur?"

"I ... I do."

Then, suddenly, T'Pol realized. But what the heck! She didn't count?

She straightened sitting and looked sternly at Trip, her eyebrow dangerously raised.

"Trip."

"Yesss?

T'Pol sighed. When would she learn? She answered proudly, in a regurgitation of floundering Vulcan dignity. "Five. No more."

A radiant smile widened on Trip's mouth. "I will adapt."

T'Pol paused for a moment to look at the picaresque visage of her Ashayam. He was smiling, with the more puppy face one could imagine. No, she never would have learned, but, after all, it was so nice, that way.

Her features softened and she lay down again, very close to her Trip, practically attached to him.

However ... a small ... very small reprisal... even simply the pleasure to arouse his perplexity.

T'Pol dropped her words as if by chance. "Do you have something to replace the moustache that you lost?"

The puzzlement rang clearly in the answer of Trip, with T'Pol's great satisfaction. She couldn't deny it. "Well... I..."

He turned his head slightly to look at her, by askance. Now what? What the hell was whirling in that damn Vulcan brain? "Yes, babe. I have several substitutes."

Ha ha, so she had not deceived herself. There was really a nice little of narcissism in that desire that he had of decorating his face with a moustache, under the shield of having to hide who he was. "Well, that's good, but I do not think that such means will be sufficient."

"Sufficient?"

"Sufficient."

Trip turned fully to look well at T'Pol. His expression was guarded. "For what?"

"To really hide your identity whenever we will come to Earth."

"Whenever... But why T'Pol?"

T'Pol's voice resounded decidedly fluty. "We said five, right, Ashayam?"

"Well, yes. Five."

"Vulcan females have a few more fertility limitations than human women."

"Namely?"

"It is rather unlikely more than one child at a time may be born and the period of maximum fertility, as you know, occurs once every seven years."

"Mh, yeah."

"Even if this does not prevent at all that any relationships can deepen regardless of the septennial periodicity."

"I have noticed."

"Have you? Anyway, therefore, one child at a time, one child every seven years... if all goes well this means that to have five children, it will take for us at least thirty-five years."

"Thirty..."

"Thirty-five years."

"Damn!"

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"We do not undertake to create extremely favourable conditions for conception."

"For..."

"Yes, T'hai'la."

"How?"

Now the voice of T'Pol was not only fluty, it was honeyed. And that was an understatement. It sounded even sugary and Trip had learned the hard way that he had to be more than a little wary when T'Pol assumed that particular tone that only he could know. _Poor man or lucky man, who knows?_

"Not bad, huh, the bikini I have worn?"

"Eh? Sure, but..."

"Very... inspiring, I must say."

"Insp..."

"Yes. Definitely useful to evoke certain… favourable conditions."

"Ah."

"You know, it is demonstrated that there is a certain relation between adequate setting and..."

"The onset of certain favourable conditions?"

"Exactly, however, on Vulcan..."

Trip began to understand. He smiled mischievously. "However on Vulcan you just could not wear any bikini."

"No."

"A less chance for the onset of those favourable conditions."

"Undeniably, especially if the size of the bikini were particularly suited to the onset of these conditions. Of course, as you proved, you would not be very happy, if I were wearing again a bathing suit a little too scanty."

"I could adapt."

"I have no doubt."

"So, for our purposes, it would be appropriate that you may… how to say?... still enjoy the… freedom of… action of a tiny bikini."

"It could be."

"But on Vulcan, it would be impossible."

"Exactly, just as…"

"To swim."

"In the sea."

"Yeah, you could not."

"Which would be a shame, because I have found this experience, it too, very… stimulating."

"Well, judging from our… articulated conversation of this night, on the beach, by the sea, in the moonlight..."

"Here, that is precisely the point."

Yeah, that was precisely the point. It didn't take, for Trip, a great deal of science to figure it out by now, let alone to fully realize what it was the game of T'Pol, or, better said, _the mischievous and delightful game_ of T'Pol, the mischievous and delightful game of that slyboots of a, just so about to say_, hopelessly humourless and irreparably unromantic and irremediably unemotional Vulcan female_.

God, how he loved his petite, wonderful Vulcan gal, full of public self-importance and of private passion for him, who enjoyed the pleasure of playing thus with him!

He played along with her game." The night or the beach or the sea or the moonlight?"

"The night _and_ the beach _and_ the sea _and_ the moonlight."

Trip moved on the bed, crawling on the side on which he lay, so as to be able to move his face closer to that of T'Pol to such an extent that their noses could touch. "And in what order of preference?"

T'Pol spoke softly, on the mouth of Trip, brushing up her lips against his. "There is no particular order of preference, though if…"

T'Pol rested her lips on those of Trip and began to speak, alternating words and soft little kisses. _**Kiss**_ – "… I…" – _**Kiss**_ – "… really…" – _**kiss**_ – "…had…" – _**Kiss**_ – "… to…" – _**Kiss**_ – "… fully…" - _**Kiss**_ - "…express…" –_** Kiss**_ – "…my…" – _**Kiss**_ – "…idea..." – _**Kiss**_.

_**Kiss**_ - "It..." - _**Kiss**_ - "... would…" – _**Kiss **_– "…be?..." - _**Kiss.**_

T'Pol's eyes darted to look at the window, at the sun, shining in the blue sky. Yes, now the sun was shining, but later it would come down, would dive into the sea, to give back room for its nocturnal sister.

She brought back her eyes on her K'diwa, clung to him, kissed him. Softly and longly.

When she detached her lips from his, she looked at him with loving tenderness. She had learned a long time now not to be ashamed of, to enjoy, to rejoice in the warm emotions he evoked in her, the soft pulses of love he managed to make born in her, the gestures, the acts of love, that he succeeded in making her do. And the words, sincere, of love that he was capable of making come out of her heart, words that, inwardly, she had struggled so hard, had found so hard to say, and that now, finally, she was able to say, like those that she pulled out in one breath, in a low voice, her tone an octave lower than usual.

"My idea is to make love with you at night, every night of our shore leave and of any further shore leave we can enjoy and whenever in our future life on Vulcan I'll want to do it, on the beach, at seaside, at the sound of the surf, under the fairytale light of Earth's Moon.".

Trip kissed her in turn. Longly and softly. "Without bikini?"

She hid her smile in his mouth. "Without bikini."

"Buck naked?"

T'Pol replied kissing him again. "Buck naked."

"I could adapt.

* * *

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

_Up there, in high, in the blue sky, the sun hid himself, a little embarrassed, behind a cloud. He looked down. There she was. As usual she was still awake, was tarrying, still uncertain between sleep and waking, that night wanderer! "Sister, sister, hey!"_

_The moon replied sleepily and slightly irked. "What is it?" _

"_Try to rest well." From the midst of his shining splendour, the sun's eyes winked slyly down, toward a hotel by the sea, toward a window, wide open in his bright light. "Tonight and sure as hell for a lot of nights yet, there will be lot of work for you."_

_From under the sea the moon peeked at that window, into the room that widened out behind its gaping panes._

_The moon watched, saw, recognized. Realized._

_The moon smiled. "I will adapt."_

* * *

**The End**

******oooooooooooooooooooo**

**(1) **_You must read "Shore Leave", to understand this._

**(2)**_You must read "Depths", to understand this, on __TriaxianSilk__ or on __my site, Plomeek Soup and Pecan Pie  
_

**(3) **_You must read "Similitudes", to understand this._


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